


The Staircase

by RedCharcoal



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 74
Words: 231,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCharcoal/pseuds/RedCharcoal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina could still smell her cologne and feel the cheap pleather pressing into her back. The brunette sucked in a breath. She was still lying on the floor at the staircase's base and she stared back up at it. Everything was different now. Changed. She felt broken by what had just happened, appalled and enraged, dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. IT WAS ME

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** NC17 for non-consensual sex. Dark. (But gets lighter.) It's my first fic. So for themes and novice errors, you have been warned.

Regina Mills had always rather admired her mansion's staircase. Sleek and polished, it curled beyond the entrance up to her rooms, not unlike the unfurled tongue of a dragon. And having Maleficent as a friend, she knew all about that. A memory flashed of the hard wood beneath her knees and her breasts impacting against them. She gasped and waited for the flashback to recede. She could still smell her cologne, and feel the cheap pleather pressing into her back.

The brunette sucked in a breath. She was still lying on the floor at the staircase's base and she stared back up at it. Everything was different now. Changed. She felt broken by what had just happened, appalled and enraged, dirty.

Trembling fingers scrabbled at the top half of her suit, trying to pull together the scraps of material on her blue/gray blouse. The same shirt the blonde had worn once before cockily returning it.

That had been then. When they'd had some sort of… _something_ ... between them. That was now gone, ripped from her like her once beloved shirt.

Emma Swan had touched her in ways she had allowed no one to in her life. And she had done it without permission. Right there - on the stairs. Regina squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears gathered in the corners not to spill and tried to pull her skirt back down, only too conscious of the fact her lacy red underwear was now shredded and lay five feet away by the banister.

_Fuck Emma Swan,_ her mind growled as she tried to sit up on her bruised and complaining knees. Her stockings were laddered and a mess.

She tried to focus on her white-hot anger. It didn't help. The tears spilled anyway.

* * *

**ACROSS TOWN**

Emma Swan lifted her cell phone with shaky hands, swallowing anxiously. The number rang three times before answering.

"It's me," she said hoarsely. She swallowed again, her throat dry. "I need you to do me a favor. I need you to lock someone up."

"What? Who? Why can't you?" the breathy voice asked.

"Ruby," Emma sighed heavily. "You need… it's me. I need you to lock ME up. I have done … something. Very bad."

"You?! Come on Emma, what on earth could you ever do? What are you charging yourself with anyway?"

Emma clenched her eyes tightly. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. It wasn't supposed to have happened like … that.

"Emma?"

"Assault," the blonde said finally - her voice a thin husk. She paused. " _Sexual_ assault."

"SHIT! Who did you… I mean. HELL! Who was it Emma?"

"I… there was a mistake. I…"

"Emma - tell me. And they might need help, so - spit it out."

"M-mayor Mills."

There was a long silence.

"I hurt Mayor Mills." She said it in defeat. She felt nauseous. She swallowed with difficulty trying to keep down the bile.

"Oh Emma," Ruby said in an anguished gasp.

"Yeah." The blonde couldn't think of anything else to say. She had done a terrible thing. There had been an awful mistake, someone had set her up - but still. No excuse. She should have realised. She should have known. As if the mayor felt squat for her.

"So I'll be at the station in a minute. Meet me there and lock me up."

She clicked the phone off. And without warning her stomach's contents rose and she threw up at the side of the road.


	2. HOUSECALL

Dr Archie Hopper stood at the door of Mayor Mills' house. He twisted his hands nervously, wondering what to say. The moment he had received the call from Ruby that his services were needed … and why… he had jumped into action. But the mayor was a hard woman to help. And he didn't know how she would react at his arrival. He had a phone in his pocket ready to call for medical help if it came to that. He really hoped it wouldn't.

"Mayor Mills?" he called out, rapping. "Mayor?"

The door slid ajar at his knuckles' force and he peered inside. He saw a crumpled figure by the stairs and his eyes flew wide.

"Oh God," he whispered, forgetting all semblance of politeness as he rushed forward. "Do you need medical attention?"

Regina Mills sat up and glowered at the rushing figure. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, hands flying to the front of her ruined blouse to cover herself.

"I-I…" Dr Hopper skidded to a halt and tried to work out a nice way to phrase the unthinkable. His brain failed him. For good reason. He dropped to his knees and sat within arm's reach of the mayor, trying not to startle her. "I had a phone call from Ruby."

"Ruby?! Why her? How… does everyone know?" the mayor's brow furrowed in anger and the doctor had to force himself not to recoil.

"The sheriff told her."

At the sound of the blonde woman's name Regina flinched and she hissed: "Was she bragging? How she brought me to my knees - literally?"

"No!" Dr Hopper exclaimed in horror. "She turned herself in - she asked Ruby to arrest her for … assault. _Sexual_ assault." His eyes flickered over the brunette's body sympathetically, drawing a narrowed-eyed glare from the woman on the floor beside him.

"Spare me your pity," she said. She lifted a trembling hand to her hair and reflexively tried to pat it straight. "Listen to me - you will tell _no one_. You will tell Ruby to tell _no one_. And you will get _that woman_ to let herself out of jail. I will not have people asking questions as to why she is in there. And then you will _leave me alone_. Have you got that?"

"B-but Regina, I mean Madame Mayor - are you hurt? I could send Doctor Whale and …"

"You will do no such thing. I don't want that sleazy creature's hands anywhere near me right now." She shuddered. "But you can help. Can you take Henry? For a few days. Pick him up from school today? I don't think I would like him here right now…"

"Of course. But wouldn't he prefer to stay with… _Oh_. Never mind."

"Yes," she snapped. "Never mind. _That woman_ shall go nowhere near my son. Is that clear?"

"Yes Madame Mayor. May I ask whether… you want to talk?"

Regina rose shakily to her feet. Her bruised knees were now at his eye level. "I do not," she said in a frozen tone. "Do not ask me again."

The doctor rose to his own feet and nodded. "What about Emm… the sheriff? If you don't want to press charges, what do you want to do?"

For the first time since his arrival a dark, bleak expression crossed her face. "I can't think about that now." It was a hoarse twisted whisper.

"It's really very out-of-character behavior," Dr Hopper whispered half to himself. "Did she say anything to indicate why…"

He did not finish the sentence before Regina was right up inside his personal space and gripping his jacket lapels with both hands. "There is NO excuse for _rape_ , doctor. I wouldn't try looking for one. What she did was despicable. And I will make sure she knows it. Later." Her lips thinned into a line. "Now. Leave."

Dr Hopper did not need to be told twice. As he reached the door he turned to offer his assistance at any time, but she had already left the room. He heard the clink of glass. Apple cider tumbler most likely, he thought. He closed the mansion's door and left.


	3. NUMB

The long shower hadn't helped. Regina had leaned against the glass walls and felt the piping hot water roll off her body. She had looked down at herself, unsurprised to see no damage, beyond the knees. Even the bruises there were fading. She corrected herself - no _physical_ damage. She knew the assault had lasted a fraction of time - until she had shouted no with all the force and fiber within her being and Emma had suddenly scampered off her like a startled animal.

The look on her face would have been almost comical if Regina hadn't felt so violated.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block it out but, the scene began again as though on a loop. It was all she had seen since it happened.

She had answered the knock at the door. Had given Swan her usual disdainful, mocking flick of her eyes before telling her Henry was still at school.

Swan had ignored that and walked forward, inside her personal space and said: "I'm not here for him, am I?"

And then she had held up her cellphone as though it was significant in some way.

Regina had stared at it uncomprehendingly and suddenly the blonde was on her, pushing lips against hers, breathlessly gasping against her.

"What are you doing?" she'd tried to say, pulling away, even though it was patently obvious what was on the woman's mind.

Emma had simply grinned, and backed her further inside her home, slamming the door shut with her foot.

"You said you might protest," the blonde added mystifyingly, then kissed her again, more forcefully.

"What the hell?!" she'd tried again, and then felt fingers ripping at her blouse, buttons sailing off, as lips bit on hers.

Her eyes had gone wide and she tore her lips off Swan's. Before she could speak she heard an appreciative mumble. "I knew you were beautiful but you're more amazing than I imagined."

Her eyebrows had shot up as hands kneaded her breasts. Swan had imagined her? _Like this?_

"Miss Swan, I don't know what you think you're doing…" she began, horrified when her voice sounded husky not biting, and gasped as hands suddenly dropped to her skirt and began fumbling for the zip at the back.

"You're really good at these protests," the blonde replied conversationally, "Shoulda guessed role play would be your thing."

Regina had twisted out of her grasp and shot away towards the stairs, confused and angry now.

This made no sense. Swan and her were enemies. Sometimes they looked at each other like … she hesitated … like they weren't … but that was all there was to it. And she certainly never wanted to _fuck_ her. She was halfway up the stairs when a surprisingly agile sheriff caught her in a tackle, bringing her down with crunching force.

Her knees impacted hard against the woodwork and then she felt her breasts similarly lodge a protest as she smelt the woman's cologne and cheap pleatherwear press into her.

A hand was between her legs now, clawing up her thighs, pulling at her stockings, digging holes in them and then pulling at her panties. There was a sick rending noise and suddenly no more red lace.

Her skirt was rucked up hard and she felt air on her newly bared ass and whimpered in dismay.

Regina groaned in horror, leaning against the shower's glass. She had been so off-balance she had actually whimpered. Like some weak fool. Swan had misinterpreted it as a sign of encouragement and had pinned her down, one hand on her back, and the other running warm fingers gently through her folds, ignoring Regina's wiggling and shocked growls. In fact the blonde seemed to be enjoying her protesting noises.

She had frozen when she felt a tongue replace the fingers and heard lapping noises. All blood drained from her face as she felt the unmistakable sensation of another woman licking her … _down there_. She stared at the wooden stairs just beneath her nose as she tried to process the impossible. This was actually happening to her. It was real. Her breath came in shaky gasps and her heart was pounding.

And then she screamed. She thrashed furiously. And she shouted a ferocious "NO" at the top of her lungs. The lapping stopped at once. The weight lifted off her instantly and she turned to glare at the now slack-jawed sheriff through appalled, reddening eyes.

The green eyes that met hers were stunned, shocked. Her mouth, still with a smear of wetness on her chin, worked silently. She gazed at her as if helpless. A small voice said: "I … Regina… I-isn't this what you wanted? You said… in your message you said…" She fumbled in her pocket and held up that stupid phone again.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Regina had roared, summoning every ounce of power she felt left in her reserves. Emma had stood stock still for a moment as if unsure what to do, as if the power of the words and their meaning finally filtered into her dim brain. An arm lifted slowly towards her as if wanting to help her up, but then she let it drop. Her face was white as a sheet, and Regina knew remorse when she saw it. But she didn't care.

"Don't make me ask you again," she snarled and then turned away so she wouldn't have to look at her.

Emma's head dropped and she turned and sprinted, pulling at the door behind her but not quite closing it in her haste to flee.

A roaring noise invaded Regina's brain once she knew she was alone and she realised it was the sound of the rushing of blood in her ears. She edged her way down the stairs, knees hurting, but when she reached the bottom she stopped and simply folded her weight under herself, staring back up at them, unable to quite believe what had happened. She curled herself into the fetal position and tried not to think at all.

Regina switched off the shower. She felt so numb. She would go to bed, she would rest, and then tomorrow ... Her jaw firmed and the fury arose anew. _Tomorrow she would deal with Swan._


	4. COMING TO TERMS

"Stupid, fucking stupid, stupid, goddammit, shit.'' Emma swore furiously as she threw clothing into an olive green dufflebag she had pulled out from under her bed. She had never felt more guilty, humiliated, appalled and ashamed. If she could think of any more ways to berate herself she would, she mused grimly, as she tossed her clothes into the bag. It did not take long.

She had not slept a wink the previous night, the agonizing memories of what she had done, how she had done it, and revisiting all the moments in time her higher brain should have kicked in and realised the awful mistake she'd made.

What had she been thinking? The text was one thing but to just assume the invitation had been true because it came from Regina's cell phone number?

Shit, she herself had ghosted cellphones more than once in her time to flush out a perp. What the hell had she been thinking? Or not.

She knew exactly what she'd been thinking. That Regina Mills had been pining longingly for her the way Emma had been for the mayor.

A flush turned her cheeks deep red and she glanced around. She had emptied her room in record time. She didn't have much crap to start with, though.

She lugged the bag downstairs and bit her lip as she glanced at the table. Maybe she should leave Mary Margaret a note ... explaining.

Although what exactly? Ruby's message, via Archie, had been very specific. Tell no one. And the least she could do now was abide by the wishes of the woman she had hurt most.

A key sounded in the door lock and she turned, already swallowing her dismay. Great. Now she'd have to explain to her roommate why she was caught in the act doing a flit. Without actually explaining.

The school teacher's face filled the frame, her expression going from pleasant to perplexed as her eyes slid from Emma to the bag by the floor and then back up to what the sheriff knew was a fucking huge guilty expression.

"Em?'' she asked cautiously, dropping her keys on the kitchen counter. "Going somewhere?''

"Uhm, yeah,'' Emma said, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

"Where?'' The eyes flicked back down to the bag, gauging how full it was. She frowned. "And for how long?''

"Dunno,'' Emma shrugged, looking at her boots. "But I am never coming back.''

Mary Margaret's entire face changed expression and in three strides she was inside the sheriff's personal space. "Why?'' she demanded, eyes narrowing. "What about Henry? And me? Were you even going to tell us?''

"I was thinking of leaving a note,'' Emma admitted, reddening even more. "And I don't want to leave, but you know...'' she faded out.

"I don't know,'' the teacher snapped, "That's why I am asking you. What are you doing this for?''

"I did something, and it affects Regina,'' Emma said in an ashamed whisper. "And the only way I can think to make it up to her - though it's not even close to doing that - is to give her what she's always wanted.''

Mary Margaret tilted her head. "What in heaven's name did you do?'' she said watching the blonde closely.

Emma stared at her boots mournfully. To her embarrassment she felt tears welling up and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Please don't ask me. It was bad. An awful mistake. Can we leave it at that?'' She sounded mournful, pleading. She knew that.

There was silence and Emma slid her eyes up, seeing her roommate processing that. Finally the teacher spoke softly.

"Would I be right in thinking this has something to do with that enormous secret crush you've had on the mayor these past few months?''

Emma gasped and stared. How the hell did she know that? She didn't have to ask because Mary Margaret merely nodded and continued: "You don't think I am blind and stupid do you?''

"Please don't,'' Emma said softly. "Really, I mean it. Regina ... I ... shit. I screwed up so bad, and I owe her the biggest fucking apology. And she won't want to see me, won't want to hear me out - can't blame her either, so...''

Mary Margaret shook her head in dismay. "So that's it? Rather than even trying to make amends, you're just going to bolt?''

"Look, you don't understand...''

"Don't I?'' the brunette shook her head angrily. "I thought we were past this, that you'd grown. But you have one speed hump and you have your foot outside the door ready to run.''

Emma sniffed miserably. She couldn't explain it. And even if she did, she doubted Mary Margaret would want anything further to do with her.

Suddenly the door banged wide open and both women jumped and turned.

Regina Mills stood in the doorway, fury radiating off her. She was wearing black pants and a black turtleneck and was almost crackling with rage. Emma quailed at the sight of her.

"Mayor Mills,'' the teacher exclaimed, "You scared me. Would you like to co...''

Regina stalked past the smaller woman ignoring her, coal black eyes fixed on Emma. Before either woman could react, Regina cocked a fist and slammed it into Emma's right cheekbone. Pivoting her hand the other way, she then backhanded her across the mouth until blood arced from her lower lip.

The impact of the two blows slammed the sheriff against the wall.

"Regina!'' Mary Margaret screamed, running behind the glowering older woman, trying to reach for her arm: "Stop it!''

The mayor shrugged her off and leaned over the broken form on the floor. "No,'' she said with a voice as cold as an Arctic winter. "She deserves it. And worse.''

Emma looked up helplessly and couldn't disagree. She slid her eyes over to her roommate. "I think maybe you should give us a little time alone? The mayor and I have some things to discuss.''

"Are you nuts, Em?'' she replied incredulously. She eyed the vein pounding from the mayor's forehead and the cold mask she wore. "The mayor looks ready to kill you,'' she hissed.

Emma sagged. "I know,'' she agreed. "But please?''

Mary Margaret shook her head and turned to Regina. "Leave her in one piece at least,'' she told her in irritation. "And if I don't hear from her in 30 minutes, I will be back with reinforcements. OK? And Em? I will call you soon.''

The blonde nodded mutely, unable to take her eyes off the enraged figure glaring down at her.

She heard the jangle of house keys and the door clicking shut.

"Regina, I am so sorry,'' Emma began imploringly.

"YOU do not get to talk. And you do not get to call me by anything other than my title.'' She leaned forward. "Have you got that, dear?''

Emma swallowed. "It was a mistake. I got this text from you and...'' she scrabbled in her pocket for her phone.

Regina, however, had turned, as brown eyes spied the bulging dufflebag in the corner of the room.

"Leaving so soon?'' she purred dangerously. "But, dear, you only just got here. Barely enough time to see the sights, snatch my son and rape the maidens.''

Emma shuddered. "I-I couldn't think of any other way to make things right. So I am giving you what you want...''

"There are two things wrong with that sentence, Miss Swan'' the brunette snarled leaning forward, breath hot against Emma's bruised and swelling cheek. "One, you can't make what you did to me 'right'.'' Emma saw the slight swallow as she said it and looked away.

Regina grabbed her jaw and yanked it back forcing her to look at her. "And, two, just like yesterday, if you want to know what I want you should probably ask ME first.''

With that she lifted her hand and slapped her again. The noise seemed impossibly loud in the still room. It stung, hard, and tears welled up. Emma screwed up her eyes to force them back.

"I know,'' she said quietly. "I am sorry. I got this text...'' she held up her phone again with shaking hands and willed Regina to look at it this time.

The brunette glared at her for a moment and then finally snatched it from her. She read in silence and then gripped the phone with white knuckles and threw it ferociously against the wall. It bounced although, somewhat remarkably, Emma thought, did not shatter.

"Why on Earth do you think I would EVER want YOU to touch me like that?'' the mayor asked in a mocking tone. "Why would I ever send such filth to a pitiful excuse of a person as you, inviting you to do that to me?''

Emma winced. She had her there. That was when all her alarms should have gone off.

"I know,'' the blonde whispered. "I realize now I should have known all along.''

"Yes you should have,'' Regina hissed. She dropped down to sit on her haunches and eyed the blonde closely, a nasty look spreading along her face. If Emma hadn't also caught the pain in the brown eyes watching her, she would have felt the next words with acute pain. Even so, they still hurt like hell.

"You wanted it to be real so badly, didn't you dear,'' she said, running fingernails hard down her cheek, digging in painfully. "You wanted me to want you and desire you. You probably spent weeks picturing me touching you. Picturing me naked. Didn't you? Dying for me? And then some sick person sends you that - and you probably almost undid yourself on the spot. Didn't you?''

Emma shut her eyes. All true.

"Well you truly are pathetic. And the truth is, as you now know, the only way you could really get me was to force me. Miss Swan, so there is no mistake, listen closely. You. Disgust. Me.''

Emma's eyes snapped open and she felt caught in brown. She knew she was pathetic. She couldn't deny the charges. She wouldn't deny them.

"Yes,'' the blonde finally said. "I believed the message because I wanted to. I was dumb not to have questioned it. Stupid not to have read your body language.'' She ignored the appalled snort of derision and plowed on. "But I never wanted to hurt you. Never wanted to ... touch you without permission. I thought I had that. Obviously I was wrong. So all I can do is walk away. Give you back everything. You get Henry. You get Storybrooke all to yourself again. Everything. I am really sorry.''

Regina rose from her haunches and walked to the window, staring out.

"Except, I don't get everything, do I?'' she said absently.

Emma blinked up at her.

"I don't get to erase the memories of your hands ... your tongue for fuck's sake ... on my body. In me. You touching me in ways I did not consent to. And I do not get what I particularly want right now.''

She turned and stared at Emma, as if driving a laser drill right through her. "I don't get to punish you the way I see fit.''

Emma stared at her, open-mouthed. "You want me to stay? So you can, what, wreak vengeance on me?'' She asked doubtfully, not entirely sure she'd heard right.

Regina gave an enigmatic, nasty smirk. "Yes, dear. And when you have properly debased yourself to my satisfaction, only then can you leave town.''

"What about Henry?'' Emma asked, voice cracking.

The rage was back, streaking across Regina's face.

"I just mean,'' Emma said hastily, "what will you tell him, when I can't see him anymore?''

"None of your concern, Miss Swan.'' She folded her arms and glared.

Emma thought about that. Well it was one of the more creative punishment procedures she'd ever come across. It probably beat jail. But not by much.

"OK,'' she finally said. "I'll do whatever you want.''

"Good,'' Regina snarled. "For this week you can start by staying the hell out of my way. If I so much as see your car, I will make sure Sidney finds some new dark secret of yours to print and humiliate you publicly with - and the truth will be optional.''

Emma sighed. "No threats are needed,'' she said. "I really do want to show you I am sorry.''

"Of course you do, dear,'' Regina sneered. "Want to wipe away that guilty little conscience. But it won't wipe away your complete mental deficiencies will it?''

Emma said nothing. She probably would feel dumb for the rest of her life. Regina took that as her cue to head for the door.

"You are lucky you're not a man,'' she hissed under her breath, flicking dark eyes back. Emma's eyebrows lifted in question.

"I would have cut it off.'' the brunette spat. She said it so coldly Emma had no doubts at all that she was telling the truth.

The door slammed.

Emma exhaled shakily and stared at the wooden frame. She rose and dragged her bag back upstairs, just as her battered phone began to ring.


	5. YDM

So far Emma had found herself on the wrong end of a fortnight's worth of double shifts, as the mayor's budget suddenly found it no longer stretched to a deputy in the Sheriff's department.

Telling Ruby she could no longer work there had been hard. Worse was the all-too-knowing look the waitress gave her as she mournfully packed up her meager office possessions.

"Sorry, Ruby,'' Emma said helplessly. "I know it sucks.''

The other woman had merely sighed and asked: "How are you going to do all this on your own? You'll be on your knees in exhaustion in only a few weeks.''

"I think that's the point, don't you?'' Emma murmured softly, and turned away so she wouldn't have to see the waitress's expression. Again.

She had seen that look for days, a mix of pity and something else, something indefinable. Not quite judging her, but a certain knowingness that said Ruby would not have made the same mistake as Emma. The sheriff hated that look.

Emma had tried to explain the misunderstanding to her deputy initially but had stopped midway through the explanation. Saying it out loud, it was so clear she had been insane to think she had the green light from Regina. Not once had the mayor offered even the faintest sign of encouragement, but Emma had been so fixated on the thrill her feelings were returned and that Regina wanted ... her ... that she had not stopped to question anything. Not even the suggestion that the mayor would enjoy playing hard to get. God, she had been such a fool.

Even without the full story, Ruby had simply looked at her with THAT expression. She was a lot smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

And so the blonde found herself working non-stop - pausing only for food and sleep and a grumbled hello to her roommate who would frown at her but say nothing. For that, Emma was grateful.

Her crushing workload also meant that when Henry occasionally tried to stop by, she could truthfully tell him to go home, as she was too busy to see him. His shoulders would droop and his face would search hers for signs of a lie, eyes flicking to the enormous - and growing - paperwork pile before finally nodding and shuffling out. Disappointed.

Emma had made some abortive attempts to find the original sender of the message - but quickly came to a dead end and realized she would only succeed with Regina's phone. However a written request to inspect it to find answers was met with silence. Emma decided not to push it.

Wearing Emma to the bone with a punishing schedule was definitely not nearly enough for Regina Mills.

Just that morning, the blonde's computer had beeped accusingly and she'd glanced up to see an email marked "From The Office of The Mayor of Storybrooke".

It was her first contact since their confrontation - the double-shift order having come through Sidney.

With shaking hands, Emma clicked the mouse and watched as the screen cleared and the email opened. She scanned it quickly and saw it was a work request. Old farmer Nate had apparently slipped and hurt his back and had contacted the mayor's office seeking assistance with his livestock.

She read down further and her eyes bulged out. She was being ordered to assist in cleaning the farmer's pig pen of excrement. Regina, literally, wanted her to shovel shit.

She fired off an email querying how shit shoveling was part of the sheriff's office.

"Is this some sort of joke? Or a mistake?'' she had inquired hopefully.

The response was immediate.

"Sheriff Swan, NOW you have decided to question the contents of communiques allegedly sent by me? A shame you lacked the acumen to have done this one message earlier.

To save you any further doubts as to the veracity of my future emails and text messages, I will henceforth sign them all with the following verification initials: YDM. It is, after all, a true reflection of my feelings for you.

Now get over to the farmer's yard and help out my constituent at once. RM.''

Emma blinked. YDM? What the hell was that?

She thought back to their awful last meeting and replayed everything Regina had said to her. Emma froze as the words formed.

She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized exactly what the initials stood for. The blonde viciously punched the off button on the computer, grabbed her badge, a thick coat and some rubber boots and headed for her patrol car.

As if the gods were laughing at her, the heavens opened up and rain began stream down the street, splashing off the pavement and coursing down her face.

Just great, Emma decided, opening the car door, too weary to wipe away the wetness.

She slid into the patrol vehicle and turned up the heater. Her teeth had already begun to chatter. She could feel tears try to leak down her face once more, and sighed at herself. She was relieved at least the rain had hidden the betraying saltwater from prying eyes.

YDM.

Fuck.

It tormented her as she turned the cruel letters over in her mind. You. Disgust. Me.

Emma started the engine and pulled away with a squeal of tires.


	6. WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

"Emma, we need to talk.''

The blonde shuddered inwardly as she took one look at Mary Margaret's stern gaze and hands on hips. She knew this was really not a conversation she was looking forward to. Although, to be fair, she had been expecting it for three weeks now.

Emma ran her fingers through unkempt hair, and tried to tug down her rumpled tank top that had the just-slept-in-where-I-landed-last-night look to it. Her eyes had dark rings under them. Her blonde tresses looked unhealthy and were veering rapidly towards the follicle stylings of a blind, drunk homeless woman.

"We really don't have to,'' Emma tried, and offered her roommate a tired pout. She moved past her in the kitchen, reaching for the kettle. "Need coffee,'' she said, noting it came out even more caveman than she'd expected.

"Em, I have tried to be patient, give you your space,'' the brunette began. "I didn't even ask why Regina beat you up and you didn't even lift a finger to defend yourself. I, um, am glad to see the bruises have faded,'' she added flicking her eyes to the blonde's face.

Emma grunted in agreement and reached for the coffee tin, spooning two heaped teaspoons into her mug.

"Obviously you two had some sort of ... disagreement. But why are you continuing to let her treat you like this! It's inhuman! And the hours you're working, good grief! And forcing you to muck out Nate's pig pens - while she watched, or so Ruby tells me.

"The mayor was `supervising','' Emma said dryly, and spooned in three heaped teaspoons of sugar. Hell she needed this caffeine hit.

Mary Margaret's eyes flashed in disbelief. "You are joking about this now?''

"Not so much. She seriously told Nate she was there to supervise.''

"OK and what about the incident with the tires?''

Emma groaned. She could still feel that in her shoulders and lower back. "The `fire hazard' you mean,'' she intoned. She poured the boiling water in the mug and stirred it almost violently. The first wafting smells of coffee hit her nose and she groaned in tired delight.

"Emma - a pile of tires on the outskirts of town that has been there for decades is no more a fire hazard than the pile of broken, mold-encrusted bricks she also had you move. How long did that take anyway?''

"Eh, eight or nine hours,'' Emma noted.

"And the rest,'' Mary Margaret growled. "If Dr Whale hadn't arrived to bandage up your hands and tell Regina you could not continue, how long would she have made you stay?''

Emma shrugged and began to sip the brew. Oh yes, this was most definitely hitting the spot.

"And she was there to supervise that, too,'' Mary Margaret snapped. "What mayor has to supervise her sheriff for an entire day moving debris from an abandoned field and putting it on a truck?''

"Well she didn't watch me the entire time. She did stop for lunch,'' Emma noted. "The croissants, apple tarts and coffee looked pretty good.''

The teacher's brows knitted. "And she gave you nothing.''

"A back ache,'' Emma admitted. "There was a stream at the bottom of the field. I helped myself when I needed to wash down or have a drink. Didn't die of thirst.''

"Well what about the town hall meeting then?''

Emma flushed in spite of herself, glad the coffee's warmth hid it. A little.

"Yeah,'' the blonde sighed. "Coulda done without that.''

"She made you sound incompetent and stupid!'' Mary Margaret spat out. "Reading out every failing of the sheriff's office - she virtually blamed you for any and all crime and every lost dog - and using that as an excuse to say that's why they were cutting back on having a deputy. She also suggested recalling you and re-running another election for Sheriff! That is plain nasty, Emma.''

The caffeine was now coursing through her veins and Emma knew she should probably say something to mollify her roommate.

"Look, she's just mad, and she deserves to be.''

"Em, I can't see what you could have possibly done to deserve this.''

"I deserve it all - and worse,'' Emma glared and put down the cup. "And I will take it until she feels justice has been served. And after that ... well, then I think she wants me to leave town.''

The last words were almost whispered.

"Oh Em,'' the brunette sighed. "Just tell me you don't want to do that?''

"No,'' she admitted, "I really don't. But Regina ... Madame Mayor ... sets the rules we play by.''

The teacher frowned at that. "She does, doesn't she? I don't suppose there's anything you could do to make any of this punishment go faster? Or be easier? Or not result in your premature death or permanent incapacitation?''

Emma thought about that. She started to speak but paused again.

"Well ... there is one thing, but ...'' She stopped and took another sip. Finally she shook her head. "It might make things worse.''

"What is it?''

"I need access to Regina's phone. Her cell. It's what started all this - I received a text I thought was from her. I need to find out who it was really from, and how it was done.''

"And proving that will show Regina you were the wronged party?'' Mary Margaret asked eagerly.

"Oh no, I definitely did a lot of shitty wronging in all this,'' Emma scowled. "A lot. But I think it'd be good to have a second target to focus Madame Mayor's wrath on. Namely - the person who set us both up.''

"Leave it with me,'' the brunette said firmly, reaching out and patting her hand. "I think I know a way. How long do you need the phone for?''

"That'll depend what I find, or what I don't find,'' Emma said, watching her roommate closely. "But seriously MM, this could all go massively wrong and she'll be gunning for you next. Teacher redundancies will suddenly be on the cards after Sheriff office cutbacks.''

"I would rather go down trying something, than watch you collapse in a heap in another week or two. This is just wrong, Em. And I am not the only one who is noticing.''

Emma exhaled. "OK, do your thing.'' She grinned at her roomie. "And, hey, thanks.''

"What are friends for?'' the teacher smiled.

Emma felt her cell phone beep and sighed, the warm glow she'd momentarily been feeling evaporating instantly. She knew who it would be. Who it always was. One new text message. She scanned it, with a sense of dread.

"Sheriff Swan, my cleaner has suddenly cancelled on me today, and I require immediate assistance. Dress appropriately. YDM.''

"Appropriately?'' she texted back in confusion.

"A maid's outfit. YDM.''

Emma frowned. "Regina asked me to clean for her and wear a maid's outfit? What the hell is that about?''

Mary Margaret's mouth fell open.

"Why the hell does she want me in a dress?'' Emma muttered to herself. "That's kinda weird.''

"Kinda?'' the teacher said, rolling her eyes heavenwards. "THIS you find weird, but none of the rest bothers you?''

"I didn't say it didn't bother me,'' Emma said softly. "It's just this seems the weirdest request so far.''

"Ruby,'' the brunette said suddenly, snapping her fingers.

"Huh?''

"She wore a French maid's outfit to a party one year. I'm sure she'd loan it to you if you asked her.''

"This is gonna be so fucking embarrassing, isn't it?'' the blonde said in an anguished tone, picturing herself in one of Ruby's dress-up outfits. They tended to display more cleavage and leg than most swimwear models.

Mary Margaret just stared at her knowingly.

"Yeah,'' Emma concluded, agreeing with the unspoken comment. "That is the point, right? My ritual and ongoing humiliation.''

"Right.''

"OK. Well I'll go call Rubes now,'' Emma sighed, her fingers scrolling down her cell phone for the number.

"And I'll arrange to separate Regina from her cell,'' Mary Margaret replied. "I know just the person to help.''


	7. THE STAIRCASE

"Oh God,'' Emma said, biting her lip, glaring at the mirror. "Could this possibly be any shorter?''

"Hey it's not that bad,'' Ruby grinned at her friend's reflection. " 'Sides I wore it and I'm even taller than you.''

Emma's eyes flew to Ruby's in the glass. "Really?'' she drawled. "That's your best argument?''

"No need to be rude, Em, at least you have a maid's outfit now.''

Emma tugged at the edge of the frilly white and black skirt, willing it to be longer. She squeezed an extra millimeter out and growled in frustration.

"FUCK!''

"Hey, Em, relax.'' Ruby draped an arm over her shoulder and looked at her in concern. "It's gonna be OK. The mayor is gonna take one look at you in this and swoon.'' She gave her a cheeky grin.

Emma's head snapped sideways to gape at her.

"Is that what you think this is about? I promise that sexy times, and especially with me, are the last thing on her mind. I think she just sat down and thought - 'What is the thing Miss Swan would hate more than life itself? Frocks, frills and humiliation? Check.' She knocked them all over in one hit. I doubt she even has any cleaning to be done. Have you seen her place? It's like some immaculate six-star hotel.''

Emma knew she was babbling now and she sighed heavily, only to frown as she spotted her plunging cleavage lift and drop spectacularly.

"You'll be fine," Ruby said, eyes drifting to the cleavage expansion fondly. "You've got your coat right? So wear that till you're inside her place. Then you'll only feel embarrassed when you're in front of her, not all of Storybrooke's motorists, too.''

"Yeah,'' Emma nodded a little too fervently and reached for the long garment. "OK.''

"And try and relax. Seriously - what's the worst that could happen?''

Emma stared at her reflection mournfully before finally slipping on the coat. "I really wish you hadn't said that,'' she muttered, as Ruby grinned back unrepentantly.

* * *

 

Emma wiped her hands nervously down the coat as she shifted from foot to foot in front of the mayor's door. It would be the first time they would speak directly since the incident. Even when she had been "supervising'' Emma, she had done so from the confines of her tinted-windowed Mercedes. Watching, invisible to Emma, but watching nonetheless.

This was also the first time Emma had been back in her house ... since...

She swallowed anxiously and lifted her hand to knock. Before it made contact the door opened.

Regina Mills stood there, black pants, black turtleneck. Black expression.

Emma frowned. The last time she had seen her she had been wearing this exact outfit. She searched her memory. And when Regina had stepped out of the car to have lunch when Emma had been moving tires, she had been wearing the same, too. OK, different colour - red-wine - but the same.

Her mind jumped forward to the council meeting. Same again.

What the hell was going on? Was the mayor having some sort of reverse wardrobe malfunction?

The mayor had been speaking and Emma forced her brain cells to work and she tried to focus.

"...off the coat and get started. I expect you to polish and clean my stairs.''

"Your stairs?'' Emma repeated stupidly, as her hands fumbled for the coats buttons.

"Yes, Miss Swan do you have a problem with that? For some reason I seem to have a reluctance to be on my hands and knees on them at the moment. Can you think of any possible reason why that might be?''

Emma flushed and bit her lip. The pain and fury in the mayor's tone was palpable. Shit. OK. Point made. She chose not to comment on the fact the mayor wouldn't be on her hands and knees doing this anyway if she had a regular cleaner.

Suddenly she knew instantly that one so private as Regina Mills would never have a cleaner in the first place. So that meant getting her here - on these stairs - by claiming the cleaner had cancelled was just a pretext.

Of course it was, she sighed, rolling her eyes. Let the torture begin.

She handed Regina her coat.

The brunette, however, did not take it as she was busily staring at the newly unveiled French maid outfit. Her eyes flicked from the fruffled plunging cleavage, past the white apron on the black material, down to the ultra-short black skirt, and white stockings.

Emma flushed deeply. Oh yeah. That.

"Ruby's wardrobe, I presume?'' she finally offered with a cocked eyebrow.

The blonde nodded mutely.

"I suspected as much,'' she said coolly. She finally took the coat and pointed to a bucket, cloths and cleaning supplies at the foot of the stairs.

"Get to work then,'' Regina said with a low growl. "I want it gleaming.'' The mayor turned and headed for her office.

* * *

 

_Huh_ , Emma thought, crouching by the cleaning supplies. _So supervising isn't on the cards today?_

She felt a draft and glanced down. Shit. This skirt was barely legal and would be no protection when she was halfway up the staircase and scrubbing hard. She just hoped Regina would be busy for a while. Emma might even be able to get it all done and flee before she reappeared.

Emma worked efficiently and hard for a good hour, scrubbing, wiping and then polishing. She had a good rhythm and decided this job, despite crippling her knees a bit, was far better than the tire haulage gig. That was just revolting and painful.

She paused and glanced down. Oh hell. She was here, right here. The place where a world of wrong had happened and she had caught up to Regina.

She froze and stared, unable to move - one hand still mid-air waiting to land on a stair.

"Reviewing the scene of the crime?'' a harsh voice said close to her ear.

Emma jumped in shock. She hadn't even heard her come in, let alone climb the stairs. She tried to turn only to find a crushing weight over her back as Regina pushed herself against her.

"I was curious, Miss Swan, how you might feel to be trapped the way I had - vulnerable, exposed...'' a hand shifted up her skirt and she felt a cool breeze against her cotton briefs. "And not knowing how it would all end.''

Regina now pushed down hard and pinned Emma beneath her. "Imagine,'' a cold, hard voice hissed in her ear, "If I just ripped away your panties, right now, without your permission." A hand landed on her ass, as though debating whether to do just that.

"Imagine if I just thrust myself inside you. Without your permission." The hand scraped fingernails through the cotton, sliding lower. Then stopping. "Or if I took my tongue and...''

"OK!'' Emma groaned from underneath the deadweight. "I get it. I am sorry. But ENOUGH.''

Regina paused as if considering her next move.

"Please,'' Emma whispered beneath her.

"But of course, my dear,'' Regina shifted off her and stood. "After all, I am no rapist.''

She folded her arms and stared down at the woman on her stairs. Emma flipped over until she was looking up at the mayor. She saw Regina's eyes raking over her again and realised her entire lower half was on display. No mystery left to anyone what panties she was wearing today. And one bra-clad breast was more out than inside her outfit.

She quickly readjusted her clothing as the mayor watched, an emotionless sentinel.

"You're lucky,'' the other woman finally whispered, when Emma had made herself presentable again - at least as much as she was able given Ruby's outfit. "You'll have forgotten this in a day. And it won't change a thing for you. You probably won't even think twice when you stand in front of your wardrobe tomorrow.''

"What?''

Regina's arms were now hugging her ribcage. "Nothing. It doesn't matter. You can leave now.''

Emma slowly rose, wanting to say something, to ask what she meant. To find out why Regina had trouble in front of her wardrobe now. She looked down at herself, feeling vulnerable, with her cleavage and legs on display.

Regina used to wear outfits like this - well not quite like this, but still. Legs and cleavage. That gorgeous straining third button on her button-down shirts.

But now - turtlenecks and tailored pants.

There was no way that was an accident.

Did the mayor not feel safe in skirts anymore? Had Emma done this to her?

Fuck.

She slowly walked down the stairs, almost stumbling when she reached the bottom one. Her only surprise came when she saw Regina's hand shoot out, as if to steady her, and then retract just as quickly and curling into a white-knuckled fist. Her jaw clamped down hard.

Emma tilted her head to look at her curiously. But Regina merely turned away and strode towards her office. The blonde watched as the door snicked close, and behind it she heard the soft clink of glassware.

The sheriff grabbed her coat, pausing only to glance back at the staircase. Half of it was gleaming with polish. The other half looked dull, mocking her.

She shook her head sorrowfully. As she shut the door quietly behind her, she knew she would be glad if she never saw that staircase again.


	8. SISYPHUS

"OK, do I wanna know how you guys got this?'' Emma asked examining the cell phone in her hands without looking up. Mary Margaret was with her in her VW parked outside the mayor's house, where Henry had just run from, clutching the device. He leaned in the driver's window. He and Mary Margaret wore matching smug expressions. Honestly they almost looked related.

"And are you sure she won't be back soon?''

Mary Margaret shook her head earnestly and said, "Let's just say David owed me a favour.''

"David?'' Emma asked, quickly unlocking the cell. Her fingers quickly hunted through the sent messages. "Why on earth would Regina want to meet David?''

"Not David,'' she sighed. "I got him to convince Kathryn to go for a coffee with her. She might hate me but she has a good heart.''

Emma paused and looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?''

"I told you I wasn't the only one to notice ... um... how you're looking these days,'' Mary Margaret said, eyes flicking worriedly to Henry.

He merely nodded in agreement. "It's true Emma," he said apologetically. "You really look like crap. Is Mom really doing this to you?''

Emma sighed. "It's complicated, kid. And she does have her reasons. Good reasons. So how'd you managed to get the phone without her noticing?''

Henry grinned. "I caused a flood right when she was about to leave. In the kitchen. She was busy turning off the taps and stuff and I snuck it out of her handbag. By the time she finished she looked at the clock and just grabbed her bag and left.''

He looked awfully pleased with himself. Emma, though, still felt guilty. It was like a low-level hum in her life these days.

" _Anything_?'' Mary Margaret asked as a silence fell on the car.

Emma paused, and stared. "Uh... well... yeah, actually.'' She couldn't believe it. She was staring at the text. _THE_ actual text. And it had been sent by Regina. Well, by her phone, to be exact. No one had ghosted anything. She wondered if the mayor even knew it was there. Given her aggravated response to the version she'd shown her, she'd wager no.

She quickly made a note of the date and time and exited the message. She was about to hand the phone back to Henry when her eye fell on a series of other texts before it. As she read, she felt her heart beat harder. She was fairly sure she now knew the culprit.

"Henry, I have what I need. Go put this back near where your mom's bag was so she'll think it fell out in her rush to leave. And thanks for you help, kid.''

She gave a tight smile as his hopeful eyes locked on hers.

"So this will fix everything, right?'' he asked enthusiastically. "Mom will let you see me again?''

"Not sure, kid,'' she said. "But it certainly explains some things. OK, we should get going.''

Henry gave her a wave and headed back into the house.

Emma exhaled hard.

"Don't keep me in suspense, Em. Who did it?'' Mary Margaret asked.

"I don't know for sure,'' Emma said tightly, "But I think there's someone I should pay a visit to.''

" _We_ should pay a visit to,'' the teacher corrected.

"MM, I appreciate your help but I think you should stay out of this now. I don't know how much shit will be flying when this goes down but I'd hate it to hit you, too.''

The brunette opened her mouth to protest but Emma shook her head. "Please,'' she said softly. "Leave it to me.''

* * *

Regina Mills had no idea what had convinced her to agree to this coffee meeting. She would have considered canceling when she parked her car, but she found she had left her phone at home. She cursed inwardly. She could have sworn she put it in her bag.

She had not been feeling sociable for weeks now. Her every waking moment contained only one thing: rage. She saw Emma Swan everywhere she turned, heard her voice. Felt her presence. And it made her antsy all the time.

But it wasn't even Swan who was starting to unsettle her now. She thought it would feel good to punish her. To watch her slave away for hours hauling tires about. To ruin her reputation at the town hall meeting. To mock her and humiliate her in stupid frocks.

But all it was doing was making her feel sick inside. She couldn't fail to miss the physical condition the blonde was in when she turned up in that hideous maid's outfit. The joy she thought she'd experience at the complete ruination of Swan's dignity had fled the moment she saw up close the dark circles under her eyes, the still bandaged hands. The bruising and nicks along her muscled arms and legs.

_She_ had done that to her. And it shocked her to find she felt no better than she had before.

Something else though had begun creeping into her psyche, like spindly fingers stretching around the edges of her brain, asking to be noticed. She had found the only thing keeping the thoughts at bay were to punish Swan harder. So she did. It was her only hope to shut the thoughts out.

Kathryn was waiting for her, coffee in front of her, wearing a completely neutral expression. It was curious, Regina thought, as the woman had seemed so insistent on this meeting, arguing she was in a desperate state of despair over her crumbling marriage.

The woman across from her, Regina noted as she slid into the booth, seemed neither desperate nor despairing.

"You seem better, Kathryn,'' she said, trying to school the suspicion from her voice.

"Thanks Regina,'' the woman replied with a smile, "And you look...'' she faded out. "Regina, actually you look shocking.''

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Flattery will get you everywhere,'' she said acerbically.

"Oh goodness,'' the blonde said, "I didn't mean to say that out loud. It's just ... when did you last sleep?''

Her hand snaked out and grabbed Regina's wrist, then her eyes flew to it as if noticing the boniness for the first time. Regina retracted her hand swiftly. "I... it's been awhile,'' she admitted.

The hand was back, with a firmer hold this time, and gave her a squeeze.

"Anything you want to talk about?'' she asked with wide sympathetic eyes.

Regina stared back. _It was so tempting._ She'd had no one's counsel in all of this. No one to explain her personal hell to. But she was Regina Mills. Mayor. She did not do unravelling. She did not do weakness. And she most certainly did not do teary confessionals.

Which reminded her...

"I don't think so. Besides, I thought we were here for you? I believe you said you and David were at some sort of crisis point? I really do think that marriage is worth saving.''

She gave an insincere smile and knew it showed. She used to be _so_ much better at this. At least when she was focused she was. That had been a while ago.

"Regina,'' Kathryn sighed, "My marriage will survive a few more weeks or months. I am just not entirely sure _you_ will. Or Emma, at this rate.''

Regina felt the shutters slam down and anger laced her voice. "What do you know of it?'' she snapped. She was so loud that heads snapped around and the diner fell silent.

Kathryn's eyebrow rose in surprise.

"I know nothing beyond watching two people I like very much wasting away before my eyes. You seem to be on edge and suffering sleep deprivation. And every time I turn around Emma Swan looks like she's undergone a new Trial of Hercules. And don't try and tell me these two developments are unrelated. Storybrooke is a small town. I know better.''

Regina folded her arms and glared at the other woman. "The two events _are_ related but that's all I am saying about it. Although you should know this - she deserves it.''

The mayor simply couldn't help the last bit. Damned if she'd allow anyone to think she was brutalising the blonde for some kind of sick kicks.

Kathryn eyed her kindly. "OK, she deserves it,'' she agreed soothingly, and squeezed her hand again. Regina looked down in surprise, having forgotten their fingers were still clasped.

"Tell me though,'' the blonde continued, "How long do you plan to punish her for whatever she did? And I am assuming you are the source of her increasingly bruised and battered appearance.''

Regina clamped her jaw down. She would not admit to bruising or battering anyone. But the first question was a fair one. She had asked herself it often enough.

At her silence Kathryn continued, "You are the only one in town with the power to do this to her, so we all know it's you. And besides, your impassioned little outburst at the council meeting blackening her name told any remaining doubters how you felt about her.''

"She DESERVED it,'' Regina said again through clenched teeth. "You have NO idea what she did to me.'' The brunette's voice caught and for one horrible moment she thought she might be about to become one of _those_ women. The ones who weep and cleave to their BFF's bosom like mewling children.

Kathryn looked at her with a soft expression. "I can see she hurt you very much, Regina. I am just wondering though, at what point you go from seeking justice, to becoming a bully?''

Regina stood up abruptly, banging the silverware and coffee cups as she rose.

"I must leave,'' she said coldly. She bent forward. "You know, Kathryn dear, you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. And if Emma Swan had done to you what she did to me, you would wish for Sisyphus's boulder to punish her for eternity with.''

She turned to leave.

"Perhaps, Regina,'' Kathryn replied noncommittally. "But have you considered the possibility that the pain is going both ways? The sheriff doesn't exactly look like some care-free recidivist thug. All I see is sorrow.''

Regina walked away and opened the door to Granny's. She snapped her head back and snarled one word. " _Good_.''

Kathryn picked up her coffee and watched the mayor leave. She sighed as the brunette slammed her car door shut and roared up the road. There went the other woman in Storybrooke who was a picture of sorrow.


	9. UNMASKED

Regina was having the nightmare again. She was tense and afraid and felt the worst sense of dread.

It always started the same way. Emma Swan pushing her down on the stairs. The crunch of her knees as they felt the pain. But then there would be the smell. Her dream would shift and she would be back there. In his bed, smelling honey mead or port or whatever the king had imbibed too much of that made him one part lothario, one part raping thug.

Despite his vast bulk he loved to press her down with his full weight, and trap her under him, watching her squirm with cruel cold delight. Then he would enter her, without permission or preamble. One moment he was on top of her, crushing her, the next she was his possession – little better than a blow-up doll. He would pound away, ignoring her sobs, never stopping until he was done.

When it was over he would roll off, never even bother looking at her again and within moments would be asleep. The snores would be loud, and reverberate around the room. Regina would curl up in the foetal position and tears would slide from her eyes. Silently though – she could not risk waking him for fear of his loins stirring again for round two. She had made that mistake once. Never again.

This time was different though – and she felt his arm snake out even while he slept and grasp her wrist hard. She struggled and cried out, but he held her like a vice and then opened his eyes and roared at her. He began to roll over back on top of her.

She woke up screaming: "LEOPOLD NO! PLEASE STOP…"

"Mom! Mom! It's me! Wake up! You're having a dream! Please Mom."

Henry's fearful voice snapped her out of the horrors of her old world and frightened boyish eyes were gazing helplessly at hers. His small hand was clutching her wrist in a deathgrip.

"H-Henry?" she asked, trying to get her breath back.

He flung his arms around her neck. "Mom," he said squeezing her. "I was so worried."

Regina looked at the tiny arms encircling her and reached up to pat him. It had been a long time since he'd willingly touched her. As her hand made contact with his skin, she realised he was trembling.

"It was just a silly dream," she said with an attempt at a smile.

He pulled back and stared at her. "Mom, I am not a baby. That was not just a silly dream."

He stuck his chin out at pugnaciously, daring her to argue. But she had no energy. She was exhausted. She hadn't slept well in three weeks, and now she was frightening the life out of her son.

"Mom," Henry whispered. "I want you to get help. I want you to go see Dr Hopper."

"Absolutely not!" she said with more force than she intended, then winced inwardly as her son flinched.

She sighed. "Sorry. I haven't been sleeping well."

"I know. Mom, you do this every night. But tonight was scarier than the others. I think your Leopold monster might have got you this time."

Regina shuddered. Hearing that name come out of her son's mouth made it seem even more real.

She shook her head. "I just need to relax some more," she said. "And you could probably use some breakfast?"

"At 3am?" Henry asked softly.

"Oh."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ever gonna forgive Emma?"

The white-hot fury flashed across her face before she could stop it and this time Henry pulled out of her reach in dismay.

She didn't speak, couldn't trust herself to. Her eyes flashed her answer loud and clear though.

"I'll go back to my room," he muttered in disappointment.

Regina watched him moodily slouch off, scuffing his striped pyjama pants along the floor as he went, appalled she was now driving away the one person she desperately wanted to be close to.

She groaned and rubbed her face. She couldn't take much more of this. She would call in sick today. And she would get some more sleep, relax and try and centre herself far better than she had been doing.

* * *

 

Emma Swan sat in her car outside the culprit's workplace. She pulled out her battered cell phone and scrolled down to the text message that had started this grisly, shitty mess.

She forced herself to read it, over and over again. She needed to know every word and syllable if she were to best this rival.

Her heart began pounding with stress as she read the fateful words:

Sheriff Swan, I think the time has come for us to drop the façade, don't you? It's time we acted on whatever this is between us. Get over to my place now. I want you to show me how you feel. All of it. Don't hold back anymore. I may pretend to not even understand at first – doesn't that make it all the more delicious? Kiss my protests off my lips, dear. Should I push you away, hold me close. If I run, catch me. Then wherever we fall, in a tangle of limbs, I want you to love me, lick me, take me; it shall be magnificent. Hurry. Regina.

The asshole who sent this was half poet, of that she was sure. But she was not surprised. Once she had worked out the bastard's identity, a lot of things fell into place. She did want to hear it direct from the horse's mouth though.

She slid the phone in her pocket. Fiddled with a few other things to ready herself. Tucked in her shirt, slipped on her jacket and left the car, loudly thumping the door. Show time.

She didn't bother knocking as she reached the door. In fact she virtually kicked it open, announcing her presence to the surprised occupant with the drawled words: "Well, well, someone's been a very bad boy."

* * *

 

Dr Hopper knocked tentatively on the mayor's door. He tried not to be nervous. He was on a mission of mercy after all and the call had sounded so desperate.

Regina Mills, dressed in a grey turtleneck and dark pants, opened the door and stared at him for a full beat.

She suddenly exhaled and turned, calling in irritation: "Henry! Get down here now!"

She turned back. "Dr Hopper, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Whatever my son told you, I am fine…"

"Yeah Mom?" Henry's voice sounded behind them and Dr Hopper could see a very nervous young man at his mother's side.

"Care to explain?" the brunette said, inclining her head in the doctor's direction.

"Mom, you need help – please! You have to talk to someone."

"No."

"I am scared for you, Mom!" he tried again.

Her eyebrow rose. "More like scared I won't let you see Miss Swan ever again." She couldn't help the thoroughly filthy way she spat out the sheriff's name. It was second nature to her now.

"That's not it!" he pleaded. "Tell her, Dr Hopper!"

Archie took a step inside and exhaled nervously. "He really is extremely worried about you Madame Mayor. He has been calling me for several days in a row now, but today he insisted was a 'Code Red'. So I think perhaps it might be time you sit down and talk things through."

"I do NOT talk things through with you or anyone," the mayor snapped.

"And that's the problem!" Henry piped up.

Regina glared at him. "Henry, go to your room."

He hesitated.

"NOW!" she bellowed.

The boy looked crestfallen but turned and scampered away.

After he was gone Regina turned back to the doctor.

"Now really, there is no reason for all this fuss," she tried in her most charming tone.

"I think we both know that's a lie," he replied. "Look, if you don't want to do this for you, do it for Henry. He has been worried sick about you. And if we sit down, have a little chat, you can tell him you did that at least and maybe he'll worry less."

He waited while she digested his plea, and he could see the warring emotions flitting across her face.

"What can it hurt?" he added with a rueful smile.

She swallowed harshly. "Oh it can hurt plenty," she muttered. "Fine. But so we're clear - I am doing this for Henry."

He nodded. "Of course."

She sighed and led the way inside.

* * *

 

Emma Swan seated herself opposite Sidney Glass and gave him her best glare. He looked flustered, nervous and guilty as all fucking hell.

"So, where to begin," she said conversationally as she cracked her knuckles.

"I have no idea what you're doing here but this is completely outrageous just barging in and…" he sputtered.

Emma rolled her eyes and put her feet up on his desk. "Save it," she said with a dismissive wave. She eyed him coldly, pleased when his flapping mouth snapped shut again. He looked back at her uncertainly, eyes sliding to her boots and back to her face.

"We both know why I am here. So, it seems you're quite the useful little computer expert. I did a little digging and it turns out the mayor uses you to help back up her office files once a week. Every Monday to be exact. Seems she likes the privacy of an 'in-house security expert' I suppose. Someone who won't blab all her … secrets?"

Sidney frowned. "She told you that?" he asked sceptically. "I hardly think so."

"Seriously Sidney? Playing the dumb-shit card?" Emma retorted, plopping her feet back to the floor and leaning forward to slap a hand loudly on his desk. "Think! How long did you think you'd get away with it before the mayor and I started comparing notes?"

At his unnerved expression, she gave a mirthless smirk. "Oh and before you start lying to me I should point out you're not the only computer expert in town."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said with an effort.

"Let me spell it out for you then. I dug around her computer and found the email I sent Regina a fortnight ago that you deleted before she had a chance to read it," she lied smoothly. "The one requesting I get a look at her phone."

It was just a hunch – but she had never understood why Regina had not agreed to her request. The mayor was like the freaking queen of vengeance – Emma was certain she would want the names of all those who had been involved in this nasty mess.

So the silence from the mayor's office had been deafening – until she realised the mayor had most likely never received her email. Which meant someone with access to her files had been busy on the delete key. And then she'd seen Regina's text messages. It was not hard to piece together after that.

Emma watched Sidney's eyes widen slightly. She was so close.

"You seriously don't think emptying her recycle bin killed that email cold do you?" she played her hand again. Sidney Glass had the worst guilty face. He was truly the most ill-suited person on the planet for a life of nefarious activities.

"This is absurd – how would I even know her password?" he protested.

Emma smiled broadly. The easily provable lie gets them every time.

"Didn't you remember the bit where I told you not to lie?" Emma asked. "Are you denying Regina texted you telling you where she left her new password – as she does every Monday when you backup her office computer?" She waited.

"I uh… Well yes she tells me where the password is so I can back up her files. Obviously I need that. And no I didn't use it to delete your email."

"You just told me you didn't know her password."

"No, I asked you how I would know it. I never said I didn't have it."

Emma sat back. Slippery little shit.

"You also back up her phone contacts too, right? Once a month."

"I…"

Emma lifted an eyebrow, daring him to lie.

"I do," Sidney said through gritted teeth..

"Which is hard to do without her phone present," she continued.

"Obviously," he rolled his eyes. "She leaves her phone for me the first Monday of the month and I do that when I am also doing her PC backup."

"Now we're getting somewhere. So, three Mondays ago, which was the first of Monday of the month, when were you doing this computer and phone backup?"

"I don't remember."

"Let me help you – the text to Regina that said you had finished both backups had a timestamp of 3.58pm."

"You have her text messages?" Sidney squeaked.

"I do. So, 3.58?"

"If that's what it says," he said, shoulders slumping.

"You know I happened to receive a message from Mayor Mills's phone at 3.45pm that day, urging me to go to her house and do some rather racy things with her."

"Well that is between you and her."

"Not if you had her phone at the time it was sent."

"She might have come by and picked it up from me while I was finishing up the backup."

"Well if you were finishing the backup, why did you feel the need to text her, rather than just tell her? And why say you had finished both backups? If she already had her phone back, she'd know you'd already finished that."

"I always text her when I am done – it's a protocol she likes," he evaded.

"You are always so thorough. Attention to detail. I like that," Emma smiled dangerously. "Which reminds me: You know what is impressive about journalists, Sidney?"

He waited, scowling.

"Semi colons."

"What?"

"Well I can barely remember where to put my apostrophes, but wordsmiths like yourself, hell, they can figure out apostrophes and semi colons and the whole bit. It's really something. Regular people – not so fussed with them. I mean, hey, why bother, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That racy text message. Best use of semi colons I have ever seen. Which really only narrows my suspects down to you or possibly August – who, by the way, hasn't been seen for two months. And he certainly had no access to the mayor's phone."

"This is all circumstantial."

"You're not denying it."

"I am saying one text message and one semi colon mean nothing."

"How do you know the message only had one semi colon?" she asked.

He didn't reply.

"Well, shall we take it to the mayor to decide?"

"She'll never believe you. It's your word against mine."

"Well, true. Actually I have to confess something. I lied before when I said she and I have been comparing notes. She won't come near me with a barge pole. She has already told me she wants me to leave town once she's finished punishing me."

She watched his slow almost feline smile. Oh yes, he liked that.

"Do you think that's fair?" the sheriff asked and almost pouted. "Punished and run out of town?"

Sidney smirked. "For rape? I would think you're lucky."

Emma's eyes glittered. "Now who said anything about rape?"

"You said you had a racy text. You went to her."

"And I didn't say what happened next."

"It's obvious," Sidney tried again. "She hates you, for one. And now she wears those unflattering turtlenecks. And you came to work all bruised the next day."

Emma folded her arms.

"I do not understand you at all," she snarled. "Why on earth would you set her up like that? I thought you liked Regina? Why get her attacked?"

"I didn't want her attacked!" he exploded.

Then the silence fell between them. It was the closest thing to a confession and he knew it.

"Then what did you want?" she asked softly. "Because all I see is you indirectly hurting her."

"I didn't want that," he said again, shoulders slumping. "I wanted…"

Sidney fell silent. Emma waited.

"You. Gone."

Emma frowned. "And then what? I don't get it – we barely know each other. Unless you were trying to hurt Regina, this makes no sense."

"NO! I would never... Never want that. I didn't think it would go that far. She is a strong and impressive woman. She would've – should've thrown you out and run you out of town the first minute you tried something."

A look of regret crossed his face. "I didn't think there might be any … ah … sustained damage. But I can see by her changes, something else, something more … obviously happened. But I never would hurt her. She is too… I …" He faded out and a sad expression crossed his face.

Emma stared at him and then the penny dropped. "Oh fuck! You love her, too!"

And then they both looked at each other. The blurted admission horrifying Emma but clearly not surprising Sidney.

He smiled coldly. He didn't deny the charge.

Emma glared at him and put her hands on her hips. She sighed in defeat. "All right. How did you know I did?"

He tilted his head and gazed at her with something akin to pity mixed with disgust. "I do have eyes. And sooner or later she would have noticed the way your gazes linger. That you spend most of the time fighting her while staring at her lips. That you watch her rear for whole minutes as she leaves the room."

Emma flushed even as her anger rose.

"So all this – all of it was just to run a romantic rival out of town? It's just your bad luck Regina Mills values vengeance above all else or your plan might have actually worked. But fuck, Sidney, you're so sick."

"Says the woman who raped the woman she loves! Really, Sheriff Swan, don't you know that no means no?" He gave her an oily smile. "And it will still work. When she's done torturing you, you will be gone. And then it will be back to her and me. Everything will be as it should be again."

His smug face. She just wanted to punch it. Instead Emma smiled and rose. "You're kidding yourself. She'll never love you, either," she said. "But thank you. I believe I have everything I came for."

He blinked at her in confusion.

"No one will believe you," he repeated uncertainly, "Regina values me. And unlike you, I haven't attacked her. You said it yourself, she wants nothing more to do with you – there's no way she'll swallow your theory."

"Well she might not believe me," Emma agreed pleasantly. "But she might believe Mr Sony." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a digital recorder. The red recording light was on. Sidney's expression fell and the blood drained from his face.

"Thank you for your time," she added with a cheesy smile.

Emma strode out of the office, hearing a strained gasp behind her. Only once she was back in her car and the tape played back both voices in clear detail did she shakily breathe out. Time for Regina to know the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** Dear marvellous readers, if you feel so kind as to leave a review, pretty please do NOT name the culprit behind Regina's text message in your review. Do not want to spoil anyone! Thanks.


	10. HOLD THE FRONT PAGE

Regina felt drained by the time Dr Hopper left. She had been right – it hurt plenty. He had asked her point blank who the 'Leopold monster' was Henry described and, with uncharacteristic candor, born of 23 days without enough sleep and her jangled nerves hanging by a thread, she had told him. Well as much as she could.

She had told him of the rapes by her then domestic partner, a man so brutish and powerful no one could protect her from him. A man who she had successfully kept out of her brain for three decades. Until Emma Swan. And then, like spidery fingers clawing at her brain, the memories had come leaching out again.

Archie Hopper had viewed her with the most godawful expression of pity and then suggested, in a roundabout way, whether it was possible some of the punishment she was meting out to the sheriff was really her way of punishing Leopold.

She had looked at him then with pure disdain. Did he not fucking get what Swan had done to her? So she had told him about that, too. In detail, so there would be no further misunderstandings.

More abject pitying looks followed that set her teeth on edge.

He had then suggested that she was a woman of immense power now; a contrast to the powerless victim she had been when with Leopold, so could she possibly be using every resource at her disposal to right a very old and terrible wrong? On the wrong person?

She had sucked in a particularly outraged hiss at that. Was Hopper particularly dense? She couldn't listen anymore. Wouldn't.

Just as he had been spitting out some sort of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder babble, she had virtually waltzed his tweed-jacketed ass to the door and told him to keep his absurd conclusions to himself and that their session was now over.

And then she had walked elegantly back to her pristine white leather sofa, folded her hands in her lap and, to her complete horror and shock, had started to weep.

She had never wept before. She had been denied it at every turn in her past. Appearances had always been forced to come first.

Now, though, she wept. She wept over Leopold and her terrifying misery of a marriage, dear Daniel and her father's pathetic weakness, her mother's cruelty, and, finally, she wept over what had happened with Swan.

Emma. She hated she wasted even a single drop of saltwater on her. Yet she felt so betrayed. Swan was a woman she had been starting to trust. A woman she had, although she would never say it out loud to a soul, at times admired. On occasion even felt some sort of something for her. It had been so intangible. She hadn't even gotten close to defining it before the sheriff had ripped it all away. All because Swan was too stupid not to think, not to pause for even half a second to really look into Regina's eyes and see the fear there. If she had, she would have known to stop it all before it started. Before the rest of Regina's fragile walls could be ripped down by that thoughtless moment in time. Leaving her forced to remember. Forced to confront him again.

It had taken years to unsee that raping brute's face.

And now...

So Regina Mills wept.

And even when Henry crept downstairs and asked her in a scared small voice if she was OK, she had simply gathered him up in her arms, not speaking, not capable of it, and hugged him as though her life depended on it, while she cried on his shoulder.

And, through some miracle, the child who hated her and who told her of her evilness day in, day out, had simply held her, patting her back kindly, and whispering to her it would be "all right". Just as she done for him countless times over the years with every bump and scrape.

Finally, face puffy, eyes red, she had pulled away, beyond humiliated and muttering at what a mess she must look, Henry had simply cupped her cheek and announced she looked beautiful. Then he had shocked her even more by leaning over and kissing her. He had whispered in her ear so earnestly that he hoped Dr Hopper had taken away the Leopold monster for good.

She had given a watery smile and said she hoped so too.

So when the knock came at the door, the last person she wanted to see – or expected to see - was one Emma Swan. The cheek of her, after all that had happened, to impose herself on her again, uninvited.

Henry had opened the door to her before Regina could object and pointed to his mother in the lounge.

Regina sat there frozen. She knew what she looked like. And judging by the way the blonde was eyeing her sideways, she knew it was obvious exactly what she had been doing this past hour.

"Miss Swan, what do you want?" she asked tiredly, not bothering to stand. She doubted she could anyway.

"I, uh, are you OK?" She was looking up at her with those big puppy eyes and Regina couldn't take it anymore.

"Get to the point," she snapped waspishly, ignoring the question.

Emma placed a small digital voice recorder on the coffee table in front of her. "It was Sidney Glass. He set me up. He sent the text from your phone. I have him on a secret recording."

Regina felt her mouth drop open. She stared at the blonde.

"Why?" she asked hoarsely. "He is one of my most trusted employees."

"I … it's all on the tape." Emma took a step, backing away, and Regina's suspicions were immediately aroused.

"What is it that makes you so nervous you can't say it to my face?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"It's… really, it's on there. All on there." And then she flushed.

Regina's eyebrows lifted. "Well why don't we listen to it together then," she suggested silkily, vastly curious as she watched the blonde shake her head vigorously and attempt to politely decline.

"I insist, Miss Swan," Regina said and reached for the device. She eyed her narrowly and pointed at the armchair opposite her. "Sit." It was not a request.

Emma sank slowly into the chair. "I really don't think you want me here when you hear this," she whispered. "Some things were said and uh…"

She faded out.

Regina ignored her and worked out where the Play button was. She pressed it and placed the device between them on the table, sliding her eyes back up to the blonde. She watched as the other woman shifted anxiously in her seat as though it were too hot. Her hands twisted themselves into knots.

Regina listened to the conversation without speaking, although her lips thinned when she realised how Sidney had done the deed. Was there no one trustworthy left in her life?

When they got to the part about semi colons, her eyebrows lifted. It was actually a surprisingly astute observation. Her eyes met the woman opposite, and she noted she was now chewing on her nails nervously.

By the time she heard Sidney admitting to the setup she was seething. And Emma was no longer even meeting her eyes. In fact she was staring at her boots. Regina wondered what on earth was coming up next. And then she heard it.

"Oh fuck! You love her, too!" Emma's voice. The emphasis on the 'too', impossible to mistake for anything but a confession of love. Love for her.

Regina blinked.

Emma blushed the deepest red and hugged her ribs. Regina stared at her in astonishment as they then listened to Sidney list all the telltale signs of Emma's feelings. Lip gazing, ass staring.

Regina felt uncomfortable and awkward just looking at the tortured blonde. She had now twisted herself into a human pretzel on the chair.

Finally Sidney explained he wanted to get Regina all to himself and she felt a flash of rage. All this pain she'd endured so Sidney Glass could moon over her exclusively?

She heard a disturbing growl and realised it had come from her own throat.

"Regina?" she heard the blonde ask uncertainly, her voice a mere husk. "Where are you going?"

The mayor looked around and realised she was on her feet.

"Where do you think?" she snarled.

"I, uh, are you sure you should drive in this condition? Or at least let me drive you."

"No," she said stalking over to get her coat. She looked around for her keys and her eyes fell on concerned green orbs watching her. "You may leave though."

"Regina…"

"Go, Miss Swan. And thank you for bringing this to my attention." There was no gratitude in her voice, she realised as she said it, just a coldness that indicated her intent. She saw Emma shiver just out of the corner of her eye.

The blonde rose and followed her to the door.

"Henry!" Regina called upstairs. "I need you to pack your backpack. You're staying at Kathryn's for the next little while."

A head appeared at the top of the stairs and small eyes flicked back and forth between his two mothers. A look of relief seemed to cross his face that they weren't trying to kill each other and his mother wasn't insulting Emma for once. He disappeared again to find his bag.

"Miss Swan," Regina said quietly, "I would appreciate it if you took Henry to Kathryn's for me. I will call her on the way to … my destination."

"Me?" Emma asked in wonder. "You're letting me take Henry somewhere?"

Regina frowned. "I am. It's best you agree before I change my mind."

"Yes," she said and nodded fervently.

"Good. And don't think this changes anything between us, Miss Swan," she said in a low growl. "We still have … many issues to overcome. But I concede you were indeed a particularly well-used pawn in Mr Glass's vicious little scheme."

Emma looked at her with a hurt 'I told you so' face and opened her mouth. She shut it again, however, and said nothing with a sad grimace.

Regina appreciated the lack of protest. She was too tired for fights on any more fronts. She could feel Emma's unspoken questions, though. What's changed now? Did you think I was lying before?

"Hearing is believing," Regina finally explained softly. "I found it too hard to believe before. It sounded so absurd - what you did to me was an accident?!" she snorted and glanced at Emma. "But now all of me understands that it happened as you said. Do not misunderstand me, Miss Swan, I am not absolving you of your part - what you did was both terrible and stupid. But now ... now I truly see it exactly as it happened."

She turned away as Henry ran up to them and missed a look of utter relief fill the other woman's face.

* * *

 

Sidney Glass, Regina decided, looked like he had just accidentally filled his pinstripe pants. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. His face had an agonised look as if he was indeed expelling excrement in his underwear against his will.

It could not have happened to a nicer person.

"You disgusting little weasel," she snarled the moment she had entered the newspaperman's office.

The man actually tried to lean away from her. As if he could escape her.

"Whatever she told you, or what you heard is…"

"The truth!" Regina snapped and leaned over his desk, latching onto his tie and pulling upwards, hard.

He made a satisfying gagging noise and the mayor couldn't resist doing it again before letting go.

"You have no idea what I went through because of your sick little scheme."

"Then have the sheriff arrested!" he blurted. "You shouldn't let someone who raped you walk free."

She slapped him so hard his teeth rattled.

"Shut the hell up," she demanded. "You will say that to no one else or I will make sure you are spitting up your teeth for the next month."

"But she was the one who hurt you!" he pleaded.

"And you were the one who masterminded it and made it happen. Without you, she wouldn't have laid a finger on me. So really, little man, it was you who tried to rape me, wasn't it?"

"No Madame Mayor! I would never do that!"

She punched him suddenly in the nose and watched as a satisfying spurt of blood dribbled down towards his mouth. He made a strange yelp of pain which she found oddly satisfying.

"Let's try this again, my dear, because I am starting to think you have a hearing deficiency. And if you don't have one, I will make sure you soon do. Now if you sent someone to my house to hurt me, who was it who really hurt me? Hmm?"

"But I didn't want her to hurt you. You were supposed to be outraged and then send her on her way."

Regina narrowed her eyes, trying to quell the inferno of rage. "So what you're saying is this is my fault?" she challenged, her voice suddenly dangerously quiet.

"N-No!" he sputtered. "I am saying she got carried away."

"Carried away? Actually, Miss Swan followed your instructions to the letter."

Sidney's eyes grew wide.

"Oh you didn't know that?" Regina hissed. She got up into his personal space and locked on to his enormous eyes. "She didn't stop until she had ticked every single box on your filthy little message. I am just glad it was a short message. I would hate to see what would have happened if you had suggested whips and chains as well."

Sidney swallowed anxiously.

"So, once again, who hurt me?" she asked sweetly, watching as the blood dribbled into the man's mouth. He licked it away nervously.

Sidney muttered something.

"I can't hear you," Regina spat. She squeezed his cheeks with a pincer hard grip, mashing his face. "Try again." She let go and slapped him once more.

"I did," he admitted. "I hurt you."

"Good," she said and leaned back for a moment, eyeing him. She gave a cold smile. "Next you'll be telling me you always hurt the one you love."

She sneered and noted with a smirk his skin had flushed darkly.

"For the record, Mr Glass," she announced after a thoughtful pause, "If you were the last man on earth I wouldn't want you to lay a finger on me. In fact, so we're very clear, I would even rather bed Miss Swan before you. So, you simpering fool, whether you successfully run Emma Swan out of town or not – it would have made no difference."

She was satisfied by his appalled gasp.

"And also for the record – there was a reason I assigned you all those filthy, underhand little tasks over the years. No one else was fit for them. But you? Well you scooped them all up and came back for more, like a pitiful little puppy dying to please me."

Sidney's head dropped and Regina smiled coldly. "Oh, what's wrong, dear?" She gave him a mock frown. "Did I say something to make you sad? Yes? Well then, now we're even."

The journalist's head lifted in surprise.

"Oh did I say even?" she corrected herself. "I actually meant you are about to suffer greatly for what you did to me. Every little nasty scheme you have been up to your ears in will be scrutinised by the mayor's office. We may actually have to report some of them to the public … shame about that."

"If you do that, then I will bring you down with me," Sidney snarled suddenly. "You can't do this to me! And I will tell everyone what Swan did to you. How she got her grasping fingers all over you. How would you like the shame of that!"

Regina felt a blinding flash rip through her body. It was an almost liquid searing fury.

"My shame?" she whispered and ran a hand seductively down his face. Then her knuckles lifted and sharp nails snagged onto skin and bit hard. "My shame. You get me assaulted and talk about MY shame?

She breathed against his cheek, delighted when he recoiled fearfully. "And you plan to challenge me? Do you feel somehow that you do not deserve to be punished?"

Sidney swallowed, trying to pull his face away from the fingernails drawing blood.

"My dear, dear, Sidney, you are a pathetic weasel. I can't believe it but you are actually making me appreciate the sheriff. At least Swan just manned up and accepted her punishment. She apologised and she endured everything I threw at her. She didn't whine and complain and threaten me.

"I even humiliated her in front of the whole town at a council meeting while she sat there and took it, just because she wanted to make things right…"

Regina faded out as she considered that for a moment. In spite of herself she was impressed. Her train of thought was distracted by a smirk from the man opposite.

"Oh you find that funny do you? That nasty little meeting?" Regina snapped. "She is braver than you will ever be, you cowardly piece of dung. Now look at that - you are actually making me defend her."

She gave a derisive snort, half appalled, half astonished.

"As for your other little threats?" Regina waved her hand. "The prosecutor and I are old friends. And should I ensure certain documents reach his hands, he will make sure the mayor's office looks cleaner than a nunnery, and the newspaper's office looks as dirty as a coal mine. We may even have to shut it down.

"So you can either lump my punishments or I will simply double down and throw the entire book at you. What'll it be?"

Sidney scowled. "Fine," he grunted. "What do you want me to do?"

"First," Regina said, leaning back thoughtfully, "I have decided an apology is in order."

* * *

 

"Emma! Wake up! Wake up!" Mary Margaret's altogether too perky voice roused the sheriff from her slumber way too early.

"Whatisit?" she mumbled. "House on fire?"

"No! It's the paper! You're on the front page!"

"Uggh again? What's Regina say I did this time? Rob a bank?"

"No! It's way better," Mary Margaret exclaimed excitedly.

Huh?

Emma sat up and rubbed her eyes, then grabbed the paper thrust in front of her.

TOWN HALL MEETING RETRACTION

The Office of the Mayor is concerned about a number of inaccuracies presented at the last Town Hall meeting concerning the Sheriff's Department. Mayor Regina Mills said yesterday that an investigation was underway as to how the errors were passed on to her as fact. In the meantime she wishes to correct the following:

The crime rate has not gone up 1600% under Sheriff Swan. It has in fact declined 4%

Lost dogs have not increased by 700% under Sheriff Swan. In fact no dogs have been reported missing.

Public inebriation and streaking offences have declined 12% under Sheriff Swan, and it is not accurate she participated in either of these crimes, and certainly did not do so while singing obscene dirty limericks.

Motorcycle gang street warfare, vigilantism and a new Ku Klux Klan chapter have all been found to be false reports.

Reports of pornography found on the Sheriff's computer were actually a Good Ladies Lumberjack clothing catalogue.

In light of the above retractions, Mayor Mills would like to withdraw her pledge for a recall on the Office of Sheriff. She apologises for anyone affected by these inaccuracies.

Emma let the paper drop in her lap.

"This is great news, Em!"

The blonde said nothing and simply shook her head. It was incredible. Regina Mills didn't 100% hate her guts any more. Maybe 99%, sure. But this was a start.

"Em?"

She stared at the story and read it over again.

Regina didn't hate her.

"Em are you crying?"

"No," she whispered. "Well yeah. But, you know, happy tears."

She felt one small bundle of excited roommate land on her and arms wrap around her. "I am so pleased for you, Em."

"Me too," she sniffed.

Her phone suddenly beeped and Emma reached over to grab it. Her heart raced as she saw who the sender was.

"It's Regina," she said. She felt Mary Margaret lean over her shoulder and they read the text together.

"Miss Swan, Farmer Nate needs his pig pens mucked out again. I expect you there in 20 minutes. Try to be on time for once. R."

Emma found tears suddenly landing on her phone in huge fat dollops.

"Hey, Em, don't cry, it's not so bad as all that. I can come along if you like. If nothing else, for morale support."

Emma shook her head. "It's not that," she husked, "Look – the initials…"

"R?" Mary Margaret said. "So what? It means Regina, right?"

"Not that initial. It's what's missing. She didn't write YDM!"

"YDM?"

"She would sign off all her texts with YDM – it means You Disgust Me. And look!" Emma waved the phone again. Another tear splattered over the screen and Emma laughed and sniffled at the same time.

"No YDM," she whispered in wonder and shared a delighted look with her roomie.

She shook her head again and felt a new sensation she hadn't felt in weeks. Hope.


	11. WARMTH AT THE EDGE OF A WOUNDED SOUL

Mary Margaret watched Emma virtually bounce off to the shower to prepare for a morning of shit shoveling. She watched with wry amusement. It took so little to make her roommate happy, and Regina Mills could just crook a finger to make her soar high or crash into a miserable heap.

A beep sounded and she glanced over to see Emma's phone light up. She saw the mayor's name on the text and grabbed the phone tentatively, wondering if the morning's shit-shoveling plans had been put on hold or something. Her eyes traced the single line of text and she instantly felt sick to the stomach.

"Miss Swan - I omitted my verification from my last text. It was an oversight. YDM. R.''

Mary Margaret stared at the message with mounting rage. With shaking fingers she quickly deleted the text, relieved Emma had never seen it.

It was time she and the mayor had a little chat about the difference between punishment and cruelty.

She put the phone back on the bed where she found it and shook her head in dismay. Three such horrible little letters.

Mayor Mills pulled up at Nate's farm and, as expected, Emma was already up to her rubber-booted ankles in wide slushy puddles of shit. She might have smirked if another sight hadn't captured her attention.

A small bundle of fury had spotted her instantly and was now stalking towards her Mercedes, arms swinging.

She could hear, muffled in the background, Swan call out to her, asking her what she was doing.

Regina considered simply starting her engine and roaring off and leaving the teacher and her roommate to their pigs and muck. But there was something about the look on Blanchard's face that made Regina feel like she'd be a coward if she did.

White knuckles rapped sharply on the tinted driver's side window.

After a suitable pause to show who was in charge, Regina pressed a button and the window lowered smoothly.

"May I help you, dear?'' she asked sweetly, with a perfect amount of condescension.

"Mayor Mills,'' Miss Blanchard began with gritted teeth. "We need to talk.''

Regina inched her eyebrows up and affected lack of interest although she was now burning with curiosity.

"Do we, dear?''

"I want you to know I deleted it.''

"Deleted what?'' Regina frowned now, leaning forward. She slipped her sunglasses up off her nose and over her hair so she was eyeball to enraged eyeball with the other woman.

"That disgusting, filthy second text you sent her this morning. Emma told me what YDM means. I deleted it before she could see it. She was so excited and happy when she thought, finally, she no longer disgusted you.''

Regina felt surprise at that revelation and slid her eyes over to the blonde woman in the background. Swan was wearing a white tank top, already adorned with liberal spatters of mud and god knows what else on it, absurdly tight jeans - as always - and black rubber boots. Her muscled biceps were now gleaming with sweat; her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her hands, still bandaged from the tire haulage exercise, worked the shovel strongly. As if sensing being watched, Swan turned and gazed at her. And for a moment, she smiled at Regina - as if forgetting in that split second why she was doing what she was doing. She seemed simply ... happy to see her.

Mary Margaret had followed Regina's eyes and saw Emma's smile and they both turned back to each other.

"See,'' she hissed. "Look at how much better she looks.''

Regina scowled and slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes, securing her mask. "That was your first mistake, dear. I don't care how she looks.''

"Oh really,'' the teacher said with an uncharacteristic hint of mocking in her tone. "Then why are you here? We both know Emma is a woman of her word. She doesn't need your 'supervision'.''

Regina had no answer for that. Why was she here? She wanted to watch Emma - obviously. But why?

Of course she knew it was not to supervise. And she had already come to realise that she felt no real satisfaction in seeing the blonde's suffering anymore. Was it just ... habit? Or something else?

At Regina's silence, Mary Margaret leaned almost inside the car. "You think she deserves to be punished? Fine. I think it's overkill, but whatever, and she's not complaining. But no more of this YDM bullshit, Regina. That's cruel. There is no reason to be cruel, too. None.''

"You don't even know what she did to me,'' the mayor spat back.

"No, I don't. Not entirely. And while I have a brain and eyes and can make a highly educated guess thanks to all the clues, it doesn't even matter really, does it? We both know she did not intend to do to you what was done to you. So - as much as you are suffering, and I get that - knock off the fucking cruelty with it!''

Regina's eyes flew wide open at the obscenity, and was glad her glasses hid her reaction.

The teacher herself seemed slightly startled. But she continued. "Do you hear me?'' It came out as an anguished whisper.

"I don't answer to you, Miss Blanchard,'' Regina replied coolly, although she was faintly rattled. "And I will thank you to keep your 'opinions' to yourself.''

The smaller brunette sighed. "You know what's funny. And by funny I mean absurd. You don't even know why you're doing this any more do you, Madame Mayor?''

"What?''

"All of this. Watching her. Grinding her under heel. Sending her nasty texts. The story in the paper today tells me your focus for vengeance has shifted elsewhere. To Sidney Glass. Yes, Emma told me he was the mastermind behind getting you and Emma ... hurt. So why persist with this?'' She waved her hand towards Swan.

"Because she deserves it!" Regina spat. It came out a lot less convincing than she thought it would.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "She really doesn't any more. You've tortured her more than enough. And you know it, too. Just admit it to yourself and you'll be a lot happier.''

Regina snarled. "You don't get to tell me what will make me happy, and you certainly do not get to tell me when Miss Swan's punishment has been completed.''

"No, I don't. But at least just be honest. You sent the second text out of fear. Fear that you forgot for half a second you were supposed to hate her. Half of you probably regrets the newspaper retraction, too. But the war is not with Emma any more, it's with yourself.''

"You know nothing! How dare you!''

"I dare because I love her,'' the teacher said neutrally, tilting her head. "And we both know that when people love, they do things that are foolish or that aren't thought through properly. Don't punish Emma for eternity for that. For loving you.''

Regina gaped. "You knew?''

"I live with her. She didn't tell me, but I knew. I think I knew she loved you before she did. I also know her heart is breaking right now for hurting you. In fact there is no punishment greater than what she is meting out to herself. And I know she would shovel shit for you for the rest of her life if you asked her to. Because she hates herself so much for whatever happened. But really, how will that make you feel any better? Or undo what cannot be undone?''

Regina's lips thinned. "This conversation is over, Miss Blanchard.'' She reached for her car keys to start the engine. But she didn't turn the key.

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Finally the teacher's hand snuck out and grabbed Regina's. "Please,'' she pleaded, "Whatever you decide - just no more of those hateful initials. Or you'll be worse than you think she is. Because the difference is - you'll be cruel on purpose.''

"That is enough." Her voice was low, threatening and cold. Regina shook off the hand, stabbed the window-closing button until all she could see was the teacher's silhouette and gunned the car's engine.

She squealed out of the farmer's yard with far more speed than was necessary, willing her thumping heart to be still. Once she was out of sight of the farm she pulled over.

Hell, if the annoying teacher hadn't been right about the text. She had completely forgotten the initials. Then she had panicked at what that meant.

She had wanted nothing more than the righteousness of her anger to burn as cold and hard and pure as it had last week. And she had half regretted the newspaper article the moment she saw it. It made her wonder what Emma would think. Swan! What SWAN would think.

Fuck.

She did not want any more uncertainty in her life. It was hard enough to face getting out of bed in the morning. Catching sight of herself in the mirror. Agonising in front of the wardrobe every goddamned day. She did not need all these other competing feelings screaming at her, too. Empathy versus vengeance. She did not care what Emma felt. SWAN! The woman's name was Swan. She was not her friend.

She would write YDM on texts from now till eternity if she goddamned wanted to, she humphed to herself.

The only thing was ...

She recalled the hint of a smile Emma Swan had shot at her. The look on her face, thinking Regina didn't hate her as much today as she did yesterday. And Regina had liked that look far more than she cared to admit. Seeing guilt on Emma's face every time she saw her just made her ache inside. It reminded her of what had happened. All of it.

But seeing that smile? It was like a ray of warmth, licking at the edge of her wounded soul.

Yes, she would write YDM on texts from now till eternity if she wanted to. But it just so happened she would never choose to do so again.

Regina restarted the engine and drove slowly away.

The image of Emma's smile lingered in her head.

_Emma. Her name was Emma._


	12. TELL ME WHY

Regina Mills had been staying the hell away from Emma. The blonde had checked her phone every morning, then repeatedly throughout the day, but nothing. She had found, weirdly, she came to miss the orders insisting she do her penance. While she worked hard, bruising her body, stretching her sinews, she felt she was doing something small on the path to redemption.

But silence? She wasn't sure what the hell that meant.

She had received only one email from Regina - an announcement the mayor had discovered Sidney Glass to be swindling city funds. This meant he was not only being stood down as editor while an investigation was being conducted by a fraud investigator supplied by the chief prosecutor's office, but it also meant some more money had miraculously been "found'' in the budget for Ruby.

Emma had received a single line email stating "Miss Lucas can now be rehired as deputy if you deem it necessary.''

Ruby had almost run the entire way over the moment Emma had rung her with the news.

She deposited her small box of stationery and knick-knacks on her old desk with a delighted grin and told Emma: "See - I told you you two would work it all out!''

"Rubes, we didn't just have an argument,'' Emma said and frowned. "And I don't know we've worked anything out. She is not speaking to me at all now.''

Ruby had merely shrugged as if this was no impediment to the path back into the mayor's affections, or whatever it was she imagined she and Emma shared.

The sheriff had sucked the end of her pen morosely and pondered what on earth any of it meant.

On the plus side, as the weeks began to roll on, turning into months, she discovered not doing a double shift every night did wonders for her sleep patterns, her mood and her friendships.

Mary Margaret had stopped looking at her like she feared she was teetering on some precipice and needing an intervention.

They still hadn't returned to their easy-going friendly relationship - mainly because Emma just didn't find life too funny anymore. But things were improving, incrementally.

Even the sight of Sidney doing a walk of shame from the newspaper's office after it was revealed he had bugged virtually every business in Storybrooke hadn't cheered her up. She'd just pushed through the paperwork and waited for the prosecutor to turn up to interview him. Again. And pushed through even more paperwork after he was formally charged.

She had watched, arms folded, mouth in a grim line as he was lead away to the reinforced police transport vehicle. The man's face was ashen and he seemed genuinely afraid, not cocky for once, as he paused, one foot on the single steel stair to the rear of the wagon.

For a moment their eyes met and he stared right through her with an icy coldness that made her inwardly shudder. This was HER fault now he had been arrested? Jesus. The man was a nutcase if he didn't understand his choices had lead to him being forced, handcuffed, into the back of that police vehicle.

Once the paperwork came out, it turned out he was dirty for so much bad shit in Storybrooke that it was a miracle he hadn't accidentally indicted himself several times over on a daily basis. It also had become abundantly clear to everyone that the only person keeping him out of jail had been Regina. Although Emma had a fairly strong feeling everything he was dirty for had been at the mayor's behest anyway.

As if on cue, as the heavy rear doors were swung closed by a police guard, and the space beyond them revealed one Mayor Regina Mills, arms crossed, lips pursed, holding herself, fingers clutching the sides of her black turtleneck. The indecipherable look on her face shifted when she caught sight of Emma and they found they were both staring at each other.

Regina hesitated then, as if deciding whether to interact. Emma held her breath. Hoping.

Finally the mayor simply turned on heel and stalked off, leaving the sheriff vastly disappointed.

She wondered what the ever unpredictable mayor had been going to say.

It was 2:12am the first time Emma's phone rang that night. Or morning, to be precise. With an indignant grunt, she had rolled over cursing and fumbling for it, having been shattered out of a deep sleep. Her bleary eyes had frowned the moment she recognised the caller.

"Hello?" she'd asked tentatively, as if half suspecting she was being pranked.

"Well if it isn't the m-mighty Sheriff Swan," came a drawling, and slightly slurred voice. A very familiar voice. Who had been hitting the apple cider a little too hard, it seemed.

"Regina?" she asked, even though she'd recognise her anywhere. It gave her a moment to gather her thoughts.

"How does it f-feel," the slurred voice continued.

"What?" Emma asked in confusion. "How does what feel?"

"Seeing Sidneyyy Glassss hauled off today. The man ... dIsgusting little toady creature ... who humiliated us. _Gone_."

Emma let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. 'Us'. Regina had said ' _us_ '. It was progress. Like huge progre…

"You should have gone with him, dear," the mayor continued. "You do realissse that, don't you? That's what I was thinking w-watching you today. Why is that Emma Swan woman still free?"

"I tried to get Ruby to arrest me," Emma sighed, "But you had her free me, remember?"

There was silence and then a shuddering breath from the other end of the phone. "Of c-course. I... yes," she finally said. "So they wouldn't all know," she hissed, as though revealing a dark secret. "M-miss Swan, I did it to protect me, not you."

"I know," Emma whispered.

"Good."

The phone clunked dead.

Emma had just gotten back to sleep an hour later when the phone shrilled into life again. This time she didn't bother to check whose name was on the call.

"Regina," she said tiredly. "Can't sleep?"

"M-missss Swwwan. Is...is it any wonder why not?" a now exceedingly drunk mayor supplied. Emma realised the other woman was also very close to tears. "Thisss is your fault. YOUR FAULT. Getting rid of Sidney d-didn't fix annnything."

"Did you think it might?" Emma asked softly.

A long beat. "I-I thought I would sleep again," came the tortured voice. "Finally. Sleep. No nightmares. There were... I-I had hopes. Lots of hopes."

"You're having nightmares? God, Regina, I'm so sor…"

" _Shut UP, Swan!_ I don't want to hear you... say you're sorry [breath hitched] over and over," Regina ground out. "All it does is remind me WHY. A-and I ... I am tired of reliving it. Tired of feeling it. And feeling vulnerable. I am TIRED!"

Emma couldn't think want to say.

"I have t' know. Do you?" Regina finally demanded when it was clear the blonde had nothing to add.

"What?"

"Ever ... relive it, dear? Ever go through it all, step by ag'nising step. Ever re...rem'ber the moment you kissed me. And groped me. And t-tasted me. Did you like what I tasted like, mmm? Miss Ssswan? Do you relive it and get _off_ on it?!"

"SHUT UP!" Emma finally howled, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "NO! God, I am not some raping piece of shitty lowlife who enjoyed doing that to you! FUCK! I would not do that on purpose. Of course I relive it. I relive the hell of knowing I hurt you so fucking much that I may never get over it. God – do you think I *want* to remember what you felt like and how you … you tasted? I try to rid my mind of it every day, because it's like a fucking war in my head. I am in LOVE WITH YOU. AND I RAPED YOU. FUCK REGINA – HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK I FEEL? What sort of a monster do you take me for?!"

The phone was silent and all Emma heard was ragged breathing and stifled noises. And then it clicked dead.

Emma threw her face into her pillow with a muffled howl and couldn't contain the tears this time. _Fuck, this was like a new form of agony._ She wondered, not for the first time, whether she should just leave town and give Regina her closure.

But – she wouldn't – not until Regina asked.

The phone rang 20 minutes later.

This time when Emma answered, softly saying Regina's name, all she could hear was the sounds of a woman's muffled crying, but like she was trying not to. There were a few abortive attempts at speech, but they all failed. The sounds that came next seemed barely human. It chilled Emma to the bone. Regina was so far from the woman she'd once known it was like day and night.

It was agony. This was agony. Finally the blonde cut through the anguished noises and said firmly: "Listen to me, Regina, I am coming round there. I need to know you're OK. I don't expect you to crawl out of bed and let me in, so I'll go up the balcony. I'll look in on you, 'kay? And if you want me to go, you just say but I am really scared for you."

She waited for an acknowledgement but all she heard was a strange noise that could have been "don't" and the phone went dead again.

She debated. She'd gotten into this mess in the first place because she'd overruled Regina's wishes. But this was serious - what if she harmed herself? She needed to be sure, right? For Henry? Emma quickly threw on a thick coat over her tanktop, and some jeans and boots over her briefs. She bolted for her car, her face almost freezing when it felt the chill on the night air.

She drove in fear, terrified of what she might find. What Henry might find if she didn't. That thought made her stamp on the accelerator even harder and before long she was at the mayor's address. She could see the faintest of lights from one of the rooms. Had to be Regina's.

She scaled the side of the building easily – it was something she was good at, thanks to her bounty hunter days. Before she knew it was hauling herself bodily on to the balcony outside Regina's window. She could see a figure huddled up in blankets, on her bed, trembling. Well, at least she was still awake and conscious.

She knocked on the French doors and, when Regina said nothing from within, she tried the handle. To her surprise they weren't locked. She wondered if Regina had opened them for her, or whether she figured no one would ever dare break into the mayor's house and habitually left them in that condition.

She looked down, realising she was standing on the threshold for Regina's bedroom. It would not do to cross it uninvited. Especially given … everything.

So Emma dropped to the floor, right there on the threshold and leaned her back against the doorframe, wrapping her arms around her knees, as much to show Regina where her hands were, as to ward off the cold.

"I just wanted you to know I'm here Regina, in case you want to, I dunno, talk."

"I didn't invite you," came a slurred voice from within the blanket nest. "Never as'ed,"

"I know. But I was worried. I am gonna stay here for a little bit. In case you need me."

"Why on _earth_ do you think I would need you?" came a vicious snarl from deep inside the pile of blankets. It was undercut by a small sob.

"Yeah, I know. But hey, we all have dark days and less dark days, and I am thinking this might be one of those darker ones for you."

Silence. And then sniffling.

"Do you want to talk? It can help. So I'm told." Emma tried again.

Laughter then – cruel and mocking. Emma winced.

"It did not 'help' when I talked to that fool H-hopper. And you do see the ... absurdity of YOU ... Miss Swan offering to play my counsellor."

"Yeah," Emma sighed. "I really do. But given only a few people know what happened, that kind of limits your choices. So I thought maybe, you know…"

"You don't think at all, do you, dear?" Emma heard the insult and then sniffling again.

"I tend to leap first, if that's what you mean." Emma said, ignoring the barb, rubbing her calves, trying to increase the circulation. She was surprised she hadn't been given her marching orders by now as it was.

"I had n-noticed," the voice seemed to be attempting coldness but it came out wry. It seemed clearer now. Unmuffled.

Emma tilted her chin up and was startled to realise Regina's rumpled brown head was now out of the blankets and blood-shot eyes were pinning her with a piercing look. She looked like absolute crap. Dark circles under her puffed up eyes, her cheekbones gaunt, her once luxuriant hair seemed limp. But none of that dulled the blazing eyes locking onto her.

The blonde shrugged helplessly. "Impulsive. It's who I am."

Regina stared at her. "Yes. It is, isn't it."

The women locked eyes for a few moments. It felt like hours. Emma finally dropped her gaze and fiddled with the laces on her boots. Now or never. "So, do you want me to leave? Storybrooke,'' she clarified.

"Why do you ask?" Regina asked silkily.

"I want ... clarity. Is my punishment over?'' Emma replied, unwilling to see the face of the woman she feared was about to exile her. "You haven't been texting me with punishments for two months now.''

"Do you feel I have punished you enough?'' Regina asked, and this time her tone sounded both almost sober and highly dangerous.

"I...'' Emma thought about that. "No. I don't think I will ever feel punished enough. As long as I live.''

Regina watched her then for a moment and finally looked past her, out the window. She clawed fingernails through her hair. Then wiped her puffy eyes with the back of her hand. "I-I am relieved Mr Glass has ... gone," she suddenly confessed in a small whisper. Her eyes darted to Emma's.

"It was not until he climbed onto that police van today that I realised how glad I was to be rid of the revolting bastard. He made me feel dirty just knowing he was around. The way his eyes watched my body," she swallowed. "Knowing what happened to me. At his command. That creep made me feel always ... unclean."

She suddenly glared at Emma. "And yet he wasn't the one who touched me,'' she said. She tilted her head as though confused. "It is ironic. Isn't it?''

Emma stared at her helplessly. "I wish I hadn't. With all my heart I wish I hadn't,'' she said, eyes filling with tears as she looked pleadingly at the mayor.

Regina watched her for a moment and then glanced outside again. "I know,'' she finally admitted. "But that does not make it any easier for me.''

The blonde nodded. She exhaled sharply. "So you want me to leave?" Her voice contained resignation.

"I did not say that. It's not just me I have to consider. My son wants you to stay," Regina said. She shook her head in irritation. "He asks about you almost every day."

Even at this distance, Emma could see Regina's jaw clench.

"OK. So what do YOU want?" Emma asked.

Regina laughed mirthlessly. "For it to be undone. Or over. Either one. I don't want to feel this way anymore."

Emma felt the tears pricking her eyes again and covered them with her hands. She could feel the brunette watching her.

"I want that, too," she confessed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. She let them drop and pinned a sad look on Regina "I just don't know how to get us there." She could not disguise the longing.

"There is no 'us', Miss Swan," Regina growled in indignation.

"I know, I just meant..."

"The idea is absurd. Outrageous even, especially given everything that's happened. Why would I ever want to be touched by you..."

"I didn't mean that I..."

"My God, it's not like you were anything to me before this. You were annoying, and in the way..."

"Regina - I get it! You hate my guts. You don't have feelings for me. You don't want to touch me or vice versa. OK? End of."

Regina's eyes caught hers and Emma could see the unshed tears shimmering. And for just a moment her mask dropped and she saw a tormented woman underneath. Regina was a tangled mess of confusion.

"That's just it," she finally whispered hoarsely, sliding back down into her bed. She drew in a deep breath and pulled the covers over her body. She sounded sleepy and the cider and emotions had obviously caught up with her.

Regina's voice dropped to the faintest whisper and she slurred her final words before falling asleep. "I don't hate you, Miss Swan. I have been trying so hard to.

"I so wish I could. Why can't I ...? Tell me _why_..."


	13. ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK

Emma woke with a start and a bolt of pain coursing through her stiff neck. Sunlight was washing her weary face and she blinked in complete confusion. Where the hell was she? She slid her eyes left. Well, hell. Storybrooke. From two storeys high - Regina Mills's balcony view if she wasn't mistaken.

Regina!

She snapped her head to the right, to look around the bedroom, and immediately wished she hadn't. Pain lanced her screaming neck muscles, fused from half a night of poor posture.

The queen-sized bed beyond the French doors was neatly made. No one was in the room.

Figures.

The last thing she remembered was Regina nodding off and Emma's mouth dropping open at her last words. Regina did not hate her. Try as she might, she couldn't. And then ... Emma clearly had fallen asleep herself.

The clock tower chimed in the distance. Shit! Eight already? She made a move to stand and glanced down at a movement out of the corner of her eye. A soft pale blue blanket fell down to her waist and she stared at it uncomprehendingly.

Her fingers reached out to stroke it, examining the quality and texture. It took a moment to register how it could possibly have ended up wrapped around her when she had not put it there herself. Finally her waking synapses put it all together and she felt herself grinning like a fool. Regina. Regina had not wanted her to be cold.

Shaking fingers stroked the blanket once more before she stood, folded it neatly and placed it on the end of Regina's bed. She crept out of the bedroom, onto the balcony, closing the doors and shimmied down the house wall, noticing as she landed that Regina's Merc was gone.

She quickly headed for her Bug, working out her own schedule quickly. Home, shower, coffee, office. No, scratch that, she was expected at a council meeting today. Something about sorting through some of Sidney's affairs and paperwork. Rubber-stamping the mayor's new outline to prevent corruption occurring again.

Emma almost laughed out loud at that when she'd first heard the proposal. The easiest way for Regina to prevent corruption from happening again in the mayor's offices was to not do it herself. And everyone knew it - even if no one said it.

Still, she mused as she slid into the driver's seat, she supposed she'd better make an appearance. After all she was the official face of law and order. She glanced at her watch, swore colourfully and stamped on the gas pedal.

* * *

Regina Mills was having a good day. The moment she woke and her eyes settled on the empty bottle of cider on her bedside table, she knew she had no right to feel this good. She wasn't usually one for hangovers, but even so, she'd drunk the entire bottle. And yet - this was how she felt.

She tried to work out what was different. For one, she'd slept. Really slept. No nightmares. No seeing HIM. No waking up with gritty eyes, feeling dried tears, her voice sore from strangled sobs.

But why?

She racked her brain trying to fathom what had changed. Her eye fell to her cell phone beside the cider glass and she bit back a strangled gasp. She'd called the sheriff. Repeatedly. And then? She struggled to remember the rest. She could almost see Emma talking to her. But that was ridiculous. They'd been on the phone.

Yet it felt almost like they were in the same room together. _Surely not._.. Heart beating faster, she suddenly swung to face her balcony doors.

Shit! Emma Swan! Knees bunched up, arms hugging herself, her neck at an uncomfortable angle against the door frame.

Regina stared. And then stared some more.

When the hell had THAT happened?

She wished she could remember what they'd talked about. Or how she had come to be there. As she observed the blonde, she noticed how cold Emma's lips looked and grabbed a blanket and knelt in front of her.

All curled up like this, Emma seemed so small. Regina found it hard to imagine this creature had been the source of so much of her angst these past few months.

She gently wrapped the blanket around her, rationalising to herself it wouldn't do to let the town's sheriff freeze to death outside her bedroom. It would be exceptionally hard to explain. And besides, Henry might miss her.

She rose and turned, eying her bed. Unlike the usual mess of twisted sheets she had faced each day for three months, it looked almost serene. She had definitely had a good night's sleep. She expertly made the bed, careful not to make a sound as she did so.

The feeling of smoothing sheets under her hands, and tucking in the sides was relaxing. As she worked she caught flashes of memories around the edge of her mind. Of Emma talking to her.

And Regina telling her how she felt.

Just as she dropped her plumped pillow into its rightful place, she froze as she recalled her final words before falling asleep. She groaned inwardly. Had she really told Emma she couldn't hate her? And then asked her to tell her why? Oh hell!

A faint flush worked her way up her cheeks and she straightened and arced her head around to examine the blonde once more.

It was true though. She bit her lip as she turned away. God help her, but she could not hate that woman curled up like a small animal in her bedroom. The woman had driven over to her in the middle of the night to stay with her, because she was afraid for Regina. And the mayor, to her complete surprise, had felt nothing but a sense of comfort and reassurance since her night visitor had arrived.

Regina could make no sense of it. It was insane. But there was no disputing one thing: she had never slept better in months.

The mayor ran her fingers through her hair as if trying to comb out the confusion she was feeling. Finally she gave up and decided to focus on what she did know. And that was simple: she was having a good day.

Emma Swan was late for the council meeting, and the brunette at the table at the head of the crowded room eyed her with hidden amusement. The blonde had almost skidded around the corner like an errant school child and then attempted to stride the rest of the way in as though she hadn't clearly run the whole way. Priceless. She had seen Henry perform that precise manouver many many times. She hid her smirk behind her hand and ordered any "latecomers'' to be seated at once.

She watched as Emma nodded in her direction as she was crossing the room, then seem to freeze for a split second as she took in Regina. Or, to be precise, her clothing.

The mayor glanced back down at herself self-consciously. Trust Emma bloody Swan to be the only one in the room to notice her appearance. She had felt daring this morning and had donned a navy skirt and white blouse, two buttons undone - she couldn't quite force herself to leave the third undone, but it was a start. Other council members had barely looked at her. If they noticed her wardrobe change, she'd seen no sign.

Not Emma Swan. Oh no. She had all the subtlety of a water buffalo. She had to freeze mid-stride, gape, and then her whole face broke out into a beautiful smile.

Not beautiful! NOT BEAUTIFUL. A smile. A regular smile.

Regina scowled at herself. Really, it's not like Emma Swan was anything more than plain at the best of times. It's just she just scrubbed up well when she smiled like that and it was only natural for anyone to have noticed.

Realising Emma had created a mini spectacle of herself, the blonde abruptly resumed walking and then sat with a graceless plop, muttering "sorry'' to the waiting room.

"As we were saying,'' Regina continued, trying not to notice how she felt so ill at ease now, "the paperwork must always go through three committee members in order to get approved, even at the first submission stage.''

Heads were nodding in approval and Regina felt satisfied. Not only had Sidney's public disgrace focused everyone's attention off her and the sheriff's erratic behaviour of late, but it had given her some excellent political mileage. Everyone was on board her changes; no one had offered a peep of challenge. All was right with the world.

For the first time in three months, she had felt quite a bit like her old self.

"We will vote,'' Regina continued with a small, pleased smile, warmed to see out of the corner of her eye an answering grin from the blonde.

"We need a second for the motion - item 1.1 on the agenda?''

"I second it,'' a councilman's voice responded.

Voices faded into the background and Regina slid her eyes over to the sheriff to find she was watching her. Regina tilted her head, leaning it on her hand and observed her under hooded eyes.

She watched as the blonde lifted her hand along with everyone else to vote. She watched only the blonde as the motion was carried. Her mind wandered. How was it that this woman's mere presence in her room gave her the best night's sleep she'd had in so long? She puzzled over it. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Hell, she was due a decent sleep one of these days.

The more she thought about it, the more Regina was convinced that had to be all it was. She'd been so tired it was a miracle she wasn't falling asleep at her desk.

Emma blinked at her hesitantly and Regina realised she'd been obvious in her staring. In fact, judging by the silence, it was obvious to everyone else.

Disconcerted, the mayor frowned. What the hell was going on with her? She shook herself mentally and dropped her eyes back to the agenda.

"Item 1.2,'' she intoned, "the abuse of surveillance equipment. I think we'd all like to hear from the sheriff on this?''

The shocked look on Emma's face was decidedly comical. That was precisely why she'd done it. She watched the blonde squirm, shoot Regina a dark look and then rise slowly to her feet.

"We all know what Sidney did was wrong,'' Emma began hesitantly. She cleared her throat then continued in a much bolder voice. "So anyone still doing it, cut it out. Right?''

She sat.

Titters of laughter went around the room.

Regina raised her eyebrows. "Yes,'' she intoned direly, pursing her lips to keep from laughing, and repeated wryly, "everyone 'cut it out'.''

It was quite possibly the first time the mayor had shown any levity on any topic for so long that it was like a dam bursting. The room erupted. The laughter was loud and long, the unexpectedness just seeming to fuel it.

Surprise flooded Regina's features and she forced herself not to gape as she went from face to face. She turned to her right and caught a shamefaced look from Emma. Ah yes, more guilt. Buckets of angsty guilt that she had made their mayor more highly strung than a children's wind-up toy and everyone was feeling it. She sighed.

At the flash of annoyance she knew must have crossed her face she watched as the sheriff forced herself to straighten out her expression into something approaching neutral.

But it was too late. The memory was back. In the forefront. Right there. Her good mood evaporated and she slammed a hand down on her desk.

"Enough,'' she growled. "If you're all finished, the issue of spying on our citizens is not one to be taken lightly by anyone.'' She turned to glare at the sheriff as she said the last word. "I suggest our sheriff goes away from this meeting and seriously considers ways we can restrict sales and access to secret recording devices which were used in such nefarious activities as those performed by Mr Glass.''

Emma's face had fallen and she now looked like a whipped kitten. Regina grimaced. She hadn't wanted to see that expression either. She wanted the smile back. Was that too hard? She was at a loss as to how to invoke it.

Her mood ruined, she abruptly stood and adjourned the meeting, citing an important business call. She stalked quickly away, feeling all eyes upon her, judging her.

The meeting had been a disaster. She felt exposed once more, anxious and wished she could make them all go away.

Could she just call it a day and go home? She glanced at her outfit, feeling ridiculous now and vastly annoyed she had worn it. Annoyed Emma Swan had stopped and stared. Annoyed they had all laughed. And annoyed in general.

A light knock made her look up.

"Hey, uh Regina,'' the sheriff said looking at her in concern. "Just wanted to see whether you're OK. You left kinda fast.''

"I am perfectly all right, Sheriff,'' Regina snapped. "I do not need to be babysat. And that rabble should know better.'' She snarled at the word 'rabble'.

Emma tilted her head thoughtfully.

"They weren't laughing at you, you know,'' she said softly. "It was just, like, it felt good to laugh for once. Been so long.''

Regina gritted her teeth. "And you are well aware of why that is, now aren't you?'' She dropped her eyes unseeingly to the paperwork in front of her.

"If that will be all?'' she added, not looking up.

"Ah...''

"Finish that report, Miss Swan. I expect it on my desk by tomorrow morning.''

"OK.'' The sheriff appeared to slump against the door. Regina ignored her.

"You might want to get a start now,'' she added in a low sneer, when she heard no movement by the door.

After a long beat, there were footsteps.

Regina exhaled.

That had not gone as she expected. She just wanted to see that smile, goddamnit.

Was that too much to ask?


	14. WATCHING

The sheriff had dropped off the paperwork on surveillance equipment sales in Storybrooke the next day. Regina had barely registered it. But suddenly, three weeks later the mayor had called her in saying they had to discuss it. Emma was nervous. She hadn't seen nor heard from the brunette in that time. And now, standing before her, she was horrified by what she saw.

Mayor Mills looked like a haggard, exhausted mess. Word around Storybrooke was to steer clear if you didn't want your head bitten off.

Emma answered some basic questions about her report; questions the mayor could have easily answered on her own. The brunette fell silent and Emma, assuming her duty was done, hesitantly turned to leave.

"Did I say you could leave Miss Swan?" came a scratchy voice.

Emma's eyebrow lifted.

"We have more to discuss."

Emma nodded and waited. Question after question on increasingly obscure topics kept Emma leaning from foot to foot, baffled as to what Regina was up to.

The mayor had kept her standing for more than an hour before finally exhausting all possible topics of conversation. And still, as the silence now dragged on as Emma waited to be dismissed, she felt sure the mayor had yet to ask the one thing that was really on her mind.

Whatever the hell that was. And so she stood, waiting.

"Miss Swan...''

Here it comes, Emma thought, wondering if now she would be asked to leave Storybrooke.

"I was wondering...''

Regina paused again and looked pained. Emma also felt pained - literally - as her calf muscles had been screaming from standing at attention in the office for this long. She shifted her weight again.

"If you don't want to, you may say no...''

Emma's eyebrows lifted. So she wasn't being asked to leave.

"Would you come over tonight and sleep with me?''

The blonde's mouth fell open.

"Not like THAT!'' Regina snapped, appalled, and a deep redness infused her cheeks. "Near me. I meant. For security reasons! Forget it. It was a mistake to ask. Get out!''

Emma still gaped, trying to understand. She thought back to the night she had stayed over. How relaxed Regina had initially seemed the next day at the meeting. The darkness under her eyes much lighter.

It had been a joy to see her like that and for a moment, crossing the floor, she had completely forgotten herself and been mesmerized by the other woman. How different she seemed. And then the meeting turned pear shaped.

Regina was now glaring at her, pointing at the door.

Emma simply drew back a chair and sank into it gratefully.

"You don't want me to leave,'' she said softly, ignoring the angry scowl. "And you should never be embarrassed to ask. About the sleeping thing. If you can't sleep because you don't feel safe, and having someone there helps relax you and give you a rest without nightmares, let me help. I can pick up my sleeping bag and be there whatever time you want. What's a good time?''

She decided by phrasing it as a fait accompli, Regina would be so focused on picking times, she would forget to be humiliated about asking.

The mayor however merely stared at her - well aware of being manipulated. Even for a good cause. The blonde remembered too late this was the other woman's forte after all. Manipulation.

Emma swallowed nervously and waited for the next salvo. Attack most likely.

"Did I say you could sit, Miss Swan?'' Regina sneered.

The best defence is an attack. Of course.

Emma shrugged. "No.''

"You don't actually listen to what I say very often, do you? I say get out, you sit down. I say forget about tonight, and you say what time? Is this a personal or genetic failing of yours - to do the polar opposite of my wishes.''

Emma flushed a little at that. Always that would hang between them. She nibbled at her lower lip and waited some more.

"Leave, Miss Swan. For once in your life just do as I say and leave.''

Emma nodded and rose obediently, a little disconcerted she had completely misread Regina - once again.

She was just reaching for the door when she heard one word.

"Eleven.''

Emma paused and without turning merely nodded and repeated in a low voice: "Eleven.''

And then she was gone.

At 11pm Emma dutifully scaled the wall of Regina's mansion, puffing a bit this time due to the pack on her back which included a sleeping bag and pillow.

When she reached the French doors she spotted Regina, already in her nightwear, covered with a silk robe, staring at her in complete astonishment.

"What?'' she asked as she opened the door. "You said 11?''

"I had rather expected you to knock on the front door like any civilised human being. But maybe I just answered my own question,'' the mayor said and pursed her lips.

Emma just lifted her shoulders in surrender, muttering about not wanting to wake Henry and began to lay out her sleeping bag on the threshold to Regina's bedroom. She could feel brown eyes on her, watching her closely.

"Why there?'' the brunette finally asked. "To make a quick getaway?'' She lifted her eyebrow.

"I didn't want to impose on your bedroom without, uh, permission.'' Emma looked at her questioningly.

Regina stared for a long beat before finally pointing to a space on the floor. Near the bed, but not too near. Emma nodded and pulled the sleeping bag towards it.

The brunette turned and slipped off her robe and Emma could see a pale blue pencil-strapped nightgown, which went to midway down her thighs. Muscled-olive skin legs stretched below it. Bare.

Emma quickly made a science of looking down at the floor, plumping her pillow and unzipping the bag. She removed her boots and placed them by the door. When she looked up, Regina was in bed, watching her with dark, unfathomable eyes.

"What?'' Emma asked nervously. "Am I doing everything to your satisfaction?''

Shit, she cursed herself. That came out a lot more sarcastically than she intended.

Regina's lip curled. "For now.'' She turned and snapped off the lamp and rolled over.

"Night, Regina,'' Emma said, sliding into the bag.

She heard a muffled grunt. It was not entirely polite, but Emma smiled. She could have sworn the mayor had simply said "Emma.''

It was the thrashing that first alerted her. Emma's eyes snapped open and she felt instant confusion until she realised where she was. A muffled cry - Regina's voice - was like cold water on her face.

"No, you bastard,'' she was crying and pushing against her heavy blankets as if fending off an intruder. "Get OFF me, Leopold! I said no!'' Emma gasped. Suddenly she understood a lot more than she ever wanted to. These were the nightmares. The secret behind the mayor's eternal sadness, rage and defensiveness. And Emma's actions had been the one to bring the memories back to her, to haunt the mayor's nights.

Without thinking she unzipped herself from the bag and crawled onto Regina's bed, lying beside her, on top of the bedding.

"It's OK,'' she whispered soothingly trying to pull away the blankets the mayor was fighting ferociously.

The motion increased suddenly and a wild fist flew Emma's way, scoring a direct hit.

"SHIT!'' Emma blurted out in pain. She felt the crazed woman freeze and her head turn.

"Who's there?'' came a small frightened voice.

Emma slipped her hand over to Regina's and gently soothed a thumb over her trembling, cold wrist.

"Just me, Regina. It's Emma. You were having a nightmare.''

There was silence as the brunette digested that.

"What did you hear?'' she asked, voice croaky, afraid.

Emma contemplated lying. Sparing her feelings. But how would that help her?

Her silence must have been telling.

Regina snapped: "Well?''

"Enough,'' Emma finally conceded. "I am so sorry, Reg...''

"What did I tell you about you saying that word?'' The voice was indignant now. "I don't want to be reminded. Or pitied.''

Emma's thumb continued to rub Regina's hand soothingly. "I know. But I can't help wishing you weren't feeling this way.''

The other woman's hand retracted quickly and pulled under the blankets. Regina turned onto her side, curling into the foetal position, facing away. She was such a pathetically tiny lump in the big bed. Emma wondered what to do next when she heard a small voice. "Me too.''

Emma sucked in a breath. "Do you want me to leave?''

"Suit yourself,'' Regina spat, but her voice gave a small quiver.

"That's what I thought,'' Emma said understandingly, and drew back the sheets. The bed dipped as she got under them.

"What on earth are you doing, Miss Swan?'' the brunette's head whipped around, eyes wide.

"Nothing but giving someone who needs it some comfort. I will be here, beside you, until you go back to sleep. If the nightmares return, I will make sure to wake you immediately and talk to you about other things until they leave, and you will go back to sleep. I've had experience with this. I had a ...''

She stopped. Well she'd forgotten how this story ended up.

"A what, Miss Swan,'' came a small, curious voice.

"A cellmate once ... who had very bad dreams. This technique worked.''

There was silence and Emma could hear the rise and fall of the brunette's breathing as she debated.

"Stay on that side of the bed at all times.''

"Of course.''

"And if you touch me in any inappropriate way so help me I will eject you right over my balcony.''

"I'd expect nothing less.''

"Fine. And if you tell a soul about this, you will never see Henry again.''

"Threats aren't necessary, Regina. I would never talk of this.''

"It's not a threat. It's a promise.''

"I know.''

"And no snoring.''

"That's kind of out of my hands, Regina.''

"So you DO snore? I should have guessed.''

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me common or something?'' Emma injected just the right amount of faux outrage to make Regina snort.

She smiled to herself.

"Not this time, Miss Swan. I am merely noting my son does, too.''

Emma chuckled at the idea of their ten-year-old snoring and was delighted when she heard a snuffle from the other side of the bed which meant she wasn't alone in that amusing thought.

"OK Regina, get some sleep, I'll be right here.''

"Just so you know, this isn't necessary,'' the muffled voice retorted. But they both knew it was for show.

Emma grinned into the darkness. "I know,'' she replied softly. "It's just to make me feel better.''

"Of course. You're so much trouble ...'' the voice faded out sleepily. Regina couldn't even be mean convincingly in this state.

Emma reached down for her pillow and slid her head on it. "I know,'' she whispered and without thinking drew her hand to lift the blanket up Regina's shoulder. She pulled back just before she stroked the tangled riot of brown hair nearby. She watched as Regina instinctively snuggled the blanket tightly around herself and fell into a deep slumber.

And so Emma Swan watched.


	15. WAKING UP

Emma had the most screaming bladder. The elbow intersecting it - not hers of course - was not helping. Nor was the toned leg, hooked over her bare calf. Or the tousled mess of soft brown hair nestled in the middle of her chest - attached to an adorable face, fast asleep. Nuzzling right between her breasts. Regina Mills had certainly made herself at home at some point in the night.

Emma wondered exactly how to extricate herself without waking a woman so sorely in need of sleep she had come begging to her of all people to try and get it.

Her bladder complained again. This was getting ridiculous. She twitched a little, trying to at least dislodge Regina's elbow, only to receive an indignant mutter and feel supple fingers squeezing around her waist tightly.

Well hell. Emma was utterly perplexed as to how to proceed when the bedroom door suddenly burst open.

"MOMMM! It's almost eight and I'm gonna be late and I haven't had breakf...''

Emma started in shock and shot an anxious glare at the impatient 10-year-old for disturbing his slumbering mother. Couldn't he see how tired she'd been?

Two things happened simultaneously. Henry Mills skidded to an almost cartoonish halt, blinking in astonishment at the sight of his adoptive mother snuggling his birth mother. There was no other word for it. She really had made herself at home.

And Regina Mills's eyes fluttered open.

At first a smile curved her lips as though waking from a rather pleasant dream. The fingers around Emma's waist let go of their grip and slid sensually up her ribcage for a brief moment. And then she froze.

Regina shot up off the sheriff's warm curves and reared back, gaping at her, as though the blonde had somehow purposely shoved herself underneath the mayor's body.

And then her head snapped fearfully towards the door.

"Henry?'' she squeaked. Regina Mills had actually squeaked. Emma bit her lip to keep from reacting.

The wide-eyed boy began backing away from their bed, lifting a small hand in surrender. Suddenly he was talking extremely quickly, tripping over his words. "ItsokIcanmakemyownbreakfast. You two keeping working things out and making up, kay?''

"Henry!'' Regina called out after him as he scampered down the hallway with what Emma concluded was a particularly cheery skip.

"Now look what you've done!'' Regina snapped her head angrily back to Emma who eyed her innocently.

"Huh?'' she said stupidly. "I was just lying here.''

Regina sat up straighter, leaving disappointingly cool patches where her warmth once teased Emma's body, and leaned against the wall. She glared at the blonde. "Now our son will think... shit.''

"He will think his mothers don't hate each other as much anymore. Which isn't a terrible thing, right?''

Regina scowled and crossed her arms. "He will think more than that.''

"He's only ten, Regina.''

The brunette eyed her sceptically and Emma took that moment to fling back the sheets. "Well I have more important business to worry about. Which way to the bathroom?'' She stood and looked at her questioningly, hands on hips.

Regina's eyes slid over the white tanktop and down to creamy briefs, and long, long legs for a moment. Emma watched herself being examined and her brain whirred curiously. Did the mayor just check her out? What the hell?

As if reading her mind, the brunette's eyes narrowed and she pointed to an en suite door. "Just don't dawdle. I am late enough as it is. There are spare towels in the cupboard under the sink if you must have a shower.''

"Thanks,'' Emma muttered and headed for the bathroom, trying to understand the faint blush she had glimpsed rising up Regina's neck.

By the time she emerged 15 minutes later, combing her fingers through a tangle of wet hair, the bed was precisely made and Regina was downstairs making breakfast for Henry, judging by the voices she could hear below.

Emma debated her options. Exit the way she'd entered? But it wasn't like she could pretend she hadn't been here - Henry had already seen her. And Regina had already told her the civilised used the front door.

She pulled on her jeans and boots, rolled up her sleeping bag and packed it and the pillow into her backpack.

Emma slung it over one shoulder and slowly headed downstairs, wondering how this world of awkward was going to play out.

She could see Henry sitting at a counter, munching on cereal and talking about a spelling test when she stuck her head in. Regina's eye caught hers and for a moment they just stared at each other.

"Miss Swan, a word if you please?'' Regina said coolly, and walked past her towards the door. She pulled the gray silk robe Emma had seen her wearing last night more closely around herself.

The sheriff followed obediently.

Regina unlocked the front door and opened it, peering out into the early light as if trying to gather her thoughts. She leaned for a moment against the frame. Without turning back to Emma she began to speak softly.

"About what happened last night...''

Emma waited.

"I...''

The blonde silently adjusted her pack on her shoulder. It was feeling heavy. Regina's eyes were still fixed on the distance. The sheriff studied her for a moment and felt ridiculously pleased to see the darkness and lines she had seen yesterday were less obvious. At some point she had truly gotten restful sleep.

"It...'' Regina's breath hitched and shoulders sagged.

This was getting painful.

"Look, Regina, nothing happened, OK? I just crashed here and you kindly shared the bed. You can tell Henry that and I'll back you up. OK I have to go - Mary Margaret will be sending out a search party if I don't make an appearance at some point this morning.''

"Uh... yes.''

Emma waited a beat but the confusion on the mayor's face told her there'd be no more coherent comments, so she simply turned to walk through the door.

A hand reached out and latched onto her arm as she passed, spinning her around to face the brunette.

"I'm sorry.''

"What for?'' Emma asked, perplexed.

Fingers rose to her cheek and delicately brushed against a spot. Emma winced. Shit. That hurt. The blonde frowned. Oh, right. Regina had belted her last night.

"S'OK. I can barely feel it,'' she lied, and Regina's eye caught hers knowingly.

There was a question there.

"Of course I won't tell anyone. Hell I am pretty clumsy, right?'' Emma gave a lopsided grin.

Regina offered the faintest hint of a twitch around her mouth. "That must be it,'' she whispered. Her hand dropped but she did not step away from Emma's personal space.

The blonde smiled then, a brilliant smile. She couldn't help it. It was quite possibly the first time since she'd known her that the mayor hadn't exploited such an easy opportunity to insult the crap out of her.

The mayor seemed faintly startled by the transformation, her eyes widening. Emma grinned again.

"I'd better ah...'' she glanced outside, and jerked her thumb towards the street, "Hit the road. You know.''

"Of course, Miss Swan. And I appreciate your ... assistance last night.''

"Any time.'' Emma gave her a pointed look. She needed her to know that was true.

Regina's eyes seemed warmer as they regarded her for a long beat. Melted chocolate instead of the contempt Emma had become so used to lately.

The blonde swallowed. "I mean that,'' she added redundantly. She shifted her backpack again - hell, it suddenly felt like it weighed a ton - and the mayor finally seemed to realise she was keeping her.

"Good day, Miss Swan,'' she said formally. "Try not to hit any street signs on the way home.''

Emma chuckled. The insult was light. Familiar.

_Back to an old faithful, hmm?_   She smirked as she headed down the path feeling strangely freer. Almost like old times.

She shook her head at herself. _Except it wasn't, was it?_

But she'd take it.

She heard the door snick softly shut behind her.


	16. QUESTIONS

Regina watched Emma go and tried to swallow her conflicted feelings washing through her. She had been momentarily taken aback when the blonde had smiled at her, and her whole face had lit up like a sunrise. For a second she had forgotten she was supposed to hate her for everything she represented.

Instead she had simply stared stupidly.

Regina leaned against the door frame, watching the figure head towards that ridiculously yellow car. It had been so, so hard to ask her to come over. She had gone as long as she could before finally her own sleep deprivation had meant she had no reserves left to stop herself from making the request. Asking an enemy for a favour.

She fought herself every minute and had kept Emma standing there for an hour while she tried to spit out the request. The blonde hadn't complained once. And now it was done.

Regina sighed. The truth was she did feel better - despite another nightmare and very sore knuckles.

She winced. Emma's face would be a mess by the end of the day. Yet she didn't even seem bothered. She shivered as she remembered a sliver of that hellish dream, and wondered how long she'd be burdened by them.

Would she be cursed to live that revolting marriage forever?

"Moommm?''

Regina was startled out of her reverie and padded back to the kitchen.

"Yes?'' she answered flatly as she picked up her son's empty cereal bowl and headed for the sink. He was sitting at the table with a troubled look on his face. She braced herself for The Question.

"Gonna be late for school," he mumbled, staring at his hands.

She relaxed her shoulders. OK, so maybe The Question was not happening after all. "I'll just run upstairs and change and drive you,'' she said lightly, running water over the dishes to quickly rinse them.

"Mom?" Henry began again, with a deeper frown. "Why was Emma in your bed?"

And there it was.

Regina turned slowly. She felt a bolt of adrenalin and anxiety flash through her body. Her fear must have been showing so she quickly schooled her features.

"I...''

"Is it to help you sleep? Was it Dr Hopper's idea? He told me I could sleep with Mr Bear if I had nightmares and it would help. He was right."

"You're having trouble sleeping, too?'' the brunette answered in surprise, thinking of the old battered bear her son used to love. She hadn't seen it in a year. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have talked about it."

"I'm not, but I remembered what Dr Hopper said. But you never talk about it when you don't sleep," he replied, eyes wide and earnest.

"Henry..."

"You don't!'' he said and folded his arms on the table. "But I think I get it now. The Leopold monster's real bad. Like _evil_ bad. And you needed the saviour to help fight it! Right? Just having her there would scare him off!"

Regina stared open-mouthed at her son's typically good vs evil leap of logic. Her irritation at his bringing up Emma's fanciful white-hat title was heavily outweighed by the fact his earnest intentions were written all over his face.

And the fact he was right.

She thinned her lips as she tried to think of an appropriate answer. Her mind whirred. At least he hadn't leapt to the conclusion any adult walking in on them might have reached.

"She just needed a place to stay last night and I thought I'd share my..."

Henry's sceptical expression and mouth dropping open brought her up cold. It was true. She never shared anything with anyone except him. Henry would never buy her sharing her bed with Emma Swan out of selfless reasons.

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "You're right. We're trying Dr Hopper's treatment. Miss Swan is good at scaring off bad dreams. We hope it will work."

She looked at him sideways, unsure what he would make of her finally admitting she needed help.

The sudden smile that crossed his face was almost blinding and an exact replica of his mother's. Regina realised she hadn't seen one like it on him in years.

A small hand reached for hers and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks for telling me the truth, Mom. I hope Dr Hopper's treatment works, too. Now come on, I'm gonna be late!"

He leapt instantly off his chair and raced past her to find his backpack. Regina watched the whirlwind in surprise.

Discussion over, it seemed.

She walked slowly upstairs to her room and opened the door. She passed her neatly made bed, remembering the insane panic with which she had made it, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Thoughts that were all about Emma. The pleasant way Regina had woken up and the feel of smooth skin beneath her fingers. She reddened as she recalled the way her body had arched into it, wanting more of that irresistible softness before she had swum up to complete consciousness.

The brunette selected an outfit and lay it on the bed, and went to her dresser drawer for lingerie. As she leant forward, close to the bed, she realised she could still smell Emma's unique scent. She paused, allowing her nostrils to take it in and decided she quite liked it. Well, considerably more than 'quite', if she was being honest.

A smile curved her lips subconsciously as she recalled the memory of her own fingers tracing the sheriff's skin. Her fingertips were trembling by the time she lifted her black panties from the drawer and slipped them up her bare legs.

She heard Henry calling from downstairs and quickly slid on the rest of her clothes. Pale grey slacks, and a blue blouse. Three buttons undone. She leaned against the wall as she stepped into her heels.

As she shut the door to the bedroom, Regina instantly missed the smell and those ... other... sweet memories. It was a stark contrast to all her other mornings which had begun bleeding into one, where she was always desperate to be gone from the place she now associated with pain, fear and insomnia.

_Maybe Henry was right_ , a small thought whispered, slipping around her head before she could stop it.

_Maybe Emma really could chase away her monsters._


	17. ROUTINE INTERRUPTED

Regina and Emma had fallen into a routine. Regina would try for a few days to sleep without the blonde before eventually giving up and texting her. Usually the text only had a word in it: Now.

And within ten minutes the blonde would be crawling up Regina's balcony. Not that she had to skulk about now Henry knew about her visits, but Emma found it habit forming. Besides, she reasoned, it saved forcing the brunette down the stairs in the cold.

In the morning she would sometimes stay for breakfast with Henry who seemed to think there was nothing in the slightest odd about the sleeping arrangements of his two mothers. He would chatter away about nothing much while Emma tried not to yawn and Regina slid eggs (just the way she liked them), onto her well-buttered white toast.

On rare occasions, at certain times of the month when the mayor was at her most fragile - Emma didn't have to ponder too hard to work out why, being female herself - Regina would call her over a little earlier ostensibly to discuss some "sheriff's department matter". But truthfully the mayor seemed to enjoy getting some late-night paperwork done while Emma lay full-length and put her woolly-socked feet up on the mayor's fancy couch and chatted about the usual oddities of her day policing Storybrooke.

The only time their almost easy banter had been interrupted was when the blonde had once wandered over to the brunette's desk and promptly sat on the corner of it, and noticed a strange folder. She had paused mid-conversation as she read the name upside down and Regina had looked up sharply and then immediately pushed it out of sight. She had then coldly ordered Emma back to her lounging spot, with a bark and a finger jabbing point.

Apparently the pets weren't allowed off the leash, Emma had thought sourly.

But that had been a rare, odd break in their increasingly amicable routine.

Their nights were always the same, though. Initially they had gone through the pretense of Emma unfurling her sleeping bag, patting down the pillows, as Regina slipped into bed and watched her while pretending she wasn't. And they would mutter good nights and try to sleep. Until, inevitably, a nightmare would terrify the mayor and Emma would be in bed beside her, soothing her trembling body back to sleep, holding her gently through her thin blue nightie.

By morning, the sun's light filtering stripes across the messy bedding, they would wake up in a tangle of soft limbs. They never commented on it, of course.

Emma would note the soft blush on the brunette's face as another extrication process began. She also couldn't help but notice that the time spent unhooking from each other was taking progressively longer. Almost as if the brunette was reluctant to let go of her deliciously warm sleeping companion.

Not that they'd ever discussed that either. Oh hell no.

The ritual had changed about a month ago. Emma was going through the science of unrolling her bedding when Regina had simply cleared her throat and flipped back the covers beside her and pointed.

Emma had frozen and stared for a long beat until Regina had rolled her eyes.

"Try not to think too hard, dear, you might hurt something,'' came the low drawl. "And hurry up, it's cold. Don't make me regret this.''

Emma had quickly slid under the covers with a relieved sigh. She'd never admit it but the floor-sleeping routine was killing her back and hips.

On the evenings since Emma had begun joining the mayor in her large comfortable bed the blonde had noticed a change in the other woman.

She had begun sleeping the whole way through the night.

And that suited Emma perfectly. After all, it wasn't just Regina who had been suffering from lack of sleep due to her nightmares.

The blonde had lost count the number of times she had headed home, gritty eyed (but well fed), to snatch a jolting tall mug of coffee out of her knowing roommate's hands.

That was another thing that never got discussed. Emma's insane nocturnal routine.

Mary Margaret knew enough of what had happened not to suspect the sheriff and the mayor were engaged in sexual hijinks, but it didn't stop the looks.

And it turned out she knew a lot more than Emma realised when one morning she stopped Emma with a hand on her elbow.

With a hint of an arched eyebrow she said: "So - I have to ask. Is she sleeping any better?''

The blonde's mouth fell open.

"Henry told me,'' she continued. "Bad nightmares. Someone called Leopold keeps attacking her.''

She let that fall into the air between them as Emma cautiously sipped on her coffee, watching her through hooded eyes. Neither confirming nor denying.

"Thanks to Henry, I know the attack dreams began around the time you and Regina initially had your, er, problems," Mary Margaret continued. "I am guessing the two events are related in some way, to make such nightmares surface like that."

Emma scowled and sucked in another sip of coffee. Hell the woman was perceptive.

"So, Emma, and you don't have to answer this, but it seems fairly likely you also ... attacked her. You attacked Regina Mills. And probably not just in a violent way, because the mayor wouldn't be this affected if it was just a straightforward physical assault." The words, spoken so softly, but with conviction, jolted the blonde to her core.

She choked on her coffee, green eyes flying wide with panic.

Mary Margaret looked at her sadly, as if having her suspicions confirmed, and continued.

"Sidney tricked you didn't he? Tricked you into acting on your infatuation with the mayor."

Emma made a strangled noise. The brunette's hand flew up to stop the blonde's half-formed denial/protest/lie/whatever the hell it was she had planned on doing.

"Please. I don't want to hear you lie to me because you promised her you would not tell. But I am no fool. You need to know that I know. And I am here if you want to talk."

Emma clamped her mouth shut again, twisting her lips.

"You go there each night because you feel guilty - and responsible - for the awful dreams surfacing."

She didn't say it as a question. But it was so close to accurate, Emma found herself giving a small half nod. She sighed at herself.

"And it would be safe to assume the nightmares she had are also," Mary Margaret looked pained and paused, "not merely straightforward violent attacks either."

Emma shuddered as the horror of all of it surfaced again. She put down her mug and flattened her hand against the counter to stop it from trembling.

Mary Margaret regarded her kindly, eye flicking from the hand back to Emma's tortured face.

"I understand why you go over there, Emma, and I wouldn't push this or breach your privacy like this if it wasn't for the fact I am also very worried about these..." Delicate fingers lifted to her face and traced dark circles under her eyes.

"When will you get to sleep again? A real restful sleep," she asked softly before letting her hand fall.

Emma shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she said gruffly. "As long as she needs me, I'll be there. Least I can do."

Mary Margaret seemed to think about that for awhile.

"OK. Will you at least tell me how he did it? Sidney I mean. How could he trick someone as smart as you? And how did you figure out it was him? I have wanted to know for the longest time but... you know. Oh Em!"

Emma realised when Mary Margaret exclaimed that she was suddenly trembling and ... as the teacher's small hand flew to her face again and came away wet ... she was also crying.

Arms suddenly enfolded themselves around her and Emma felt the crushing weight of everything that had happened surround her, engulf her.

She was crying and crying and she felt ridiculous but as hard as she tried, she simply couldn't stop. And before she knew it, in great gulping sobs, it all came out, everything.

Right down to the way she trapped Sidney. And the look on his face when she held up the recorder. How it felt such a relief. And then the humiliation of playing it before Regina and the mayor hearing her secret, eyes black and glittering. All the while a small hand patted her on the back in what was a strangely maternal - and very comforting - gesture.

As the blonde finally pulled away she noticed a tiny frown knitting Mary Margaret's eyebrows.

Emma felt a wave of fear. Had she finally disgusted her roommate to the point she no longer wanted to speak to her?

She swallowed. "Mary Marg..." she began.

"I don't get one thing," Mary Margaret interrupted snapping her face upwards to pin Emma with a penetrating look.

"What?'' Emma asked in alarm.

"If Sidney had Regina's cellphone - why did he send a text to it to say the backup was finished?"

Emma fell silent and stared.

Mary Margaret stared back.

"I ...uh ... don't know." She sucked her mouth in her bottom lip.

"I mean," the brunette continued, "it's how you caught him. I mean goodness," she gave a sharp laugh. "It's almost like he wanted you to catch him."

She stopped laughing as a growing sense of dread filled her voice. "Why was that? And does Regina know? I mean this wasn't something they did togeth ... uh... no. That makes no sense either."

Emma was gaping at the teacher now as increasingly paranoid scenarios were racing to the bottom of her mind. Had Sidney wanted to get caught? Had he set her up twice?!

And as for Regina... He was her faithful employee. What did it mean?

"Sorry," the teacher shrugged. "It probably doesn't mean anything. I mean maybe he forgot. Did it by rote."

"Sidney is a careful and fastidious man," Emma scowled. "Nothing escapes his attention. Just like Regi..."

She stopped. A vision of the folder she had seen on Regina's desk that had caused her to bark at her came to mind.

The name on it. Glass.

What was it even doing there? She had seen it contained a bunch of letters, before the mayor had snapped it shut. They had a fancy logo on them. Fuck. They were from his jail.

Regina had been corresponding with Sidney Glass.

FUCK.

Mary Margaret's eyes went wide.

Oh. She'd said that out loud.

"Sorry," Emma muttered. "I need to investigate something."

"Em, what is it?"

"Nothing. Hopefully nothing at all." With that she grabbed her coat and prepared to head back to the mayor's home.

And she found herself praying it really was nothing at all.


	18. FILED UNDER G

Emma strode towards Regina's study and tried not to think about the fact she was breaking and entering. Actually, she rationalised to herself, if the mayor had already told her where the spare key was two months ago (so she wouldn't have to climb up the balcony), technically she had permission. Except, she mused as she entered the austere and neatly ordered room, she knew she had nothing of the sort.

But hell, she needed to know if she was being played in some seriously sick scheme.

She looked through the stack of folders on the mayor's desk but couldn't find the one she'd seen the night Regina had turned instantly frosty and hid it away.

Emma sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

She headed for the filing cabinet. Locked. She examined the mechanism closely and realised that wouldn't prove too great a hurdle. In less than a minute and one bent out of shape paperclip later, she slid it open.

She found it immediately, filed under G.

Emma lifted the folder on top of the cabinet and leafed through. Letter after letter from Sidney Glass. She stopped and read one at random. It was virtually vibrating with his trademark adoration for her.

Sidney was thanking her profusely for her last letter and her interest in his wellbeing. He appreciated the luxury items she had included. Emma stopped and scowled. Why the fuck was Regina sending that scum gifts?

She read on. He would answer her queries soon but had to go now. He wanted her to know he appreciated her planned entreaties for his early release.

Early release? He had only just gone in! What the hell was this crap?

A car slam outside distracted her and Emma quickly threw the letter into the folder and slid it back in the filing cabinet. She heard the door to mansion click open and Regina's unmistakeable clack of footsteps.

Shit. She was supposed to be at work. Emma dropped to her knees and scrambled under the desk and held her breath. The footsteps approached the room and paused. Emma waited, heart in her mouth, and then heard the sound of papers being plucked off the desk. Emma got an impressive up-close view of those perfect patented leather black heels as she stood in front of the desk, reading whatever she'd come back for.

Finally, the shoes turned and left and Emma exhaled. After a few moments she heard the front door shut and footsteps recede down the path.

Emma leapt up and padded to the hallway peering out. When she saw the black Merc leave she swiftly followed, locking up behind her and returning the house key to its hiding spot. She was relieved she'd thought to park her bug half a block away.

The blonde drove home in silence, unable to bear the thought of turning on the radio. Her mind was an absolute jumble. If Regina and Sidney were still on the same side, what the hell had happened six months ago? There was no way the mayor's terror wasn't real. The trembling. The anxiety. Emma couldn't imagine anyone being so accomplished an actress. And she knew pain when she saw it.

She pushed that conundrum aside and tried to think of it from another angle. What was the end goal of Sidney's text? If it had been Regina and Sidney's joint plan to drive her out of town through guilt, then why had Regina told her to stay?

She ground her molars, perplexed. To her surprise she found herself driving straight past the sheriff's office and on to Mary Margaret's place. She parked and sat for a few moments trying to gather her thoughts. She was too unfocused to work, her mind screaming at her over the revelations in that file. She pulled out her cellphone and when Ruby answered her fumbled dial, curtly asked her to cover her for the rest of the day.

"Flu," she explained unconvincingly.

"But you seemed fine yesterday."

"Came on suddenly."

"Uh huh."

She clicked the phone off. She didn't care what Ruby thought anyway right now.

With a heavy sigh she trudged up the stairs again, passing Mary Margaret on her way to work.

They paused awkwardly, each well aware this was not the place for continuing their earlier conversation.

"Did you, ah, find what you were looking for?" the teacher asked, eyeing her worriedly.

"In a way," the blonde replied, thinning her lips. "It also just raised a helluva lot more questions."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I think," Emma said slowly, frowning as her fingers rubbed at the flakey paint on the stairwell railing, "It might be time to stop dancing to the mayor's tune. And try and figure all this out. Because it's confusing as hell."

"Well anything that means you finally get a few decent nights' sleep in your own bed sounds like a pretty good plan to me," the brunette said with a reassuring smile. "Look, I've got to go, but I left some coffee out for you just in case you came back."

Emma attempted a grin and a wave as the woman continued past her down the stairs, but it soon fell from the edges of her lips the moment she looked away.

Meanwhile, her brain screamed. What the freaking hell was going on?

* * *

 

When the first "NOW" demand from Regina arrived via text at eleven that night, Emma simply ignored it. She'd already had a thoroughly sucky day ripping apart possible motives and theories in her mind and nothing fit. Nothing worked. The only way the scenarios fit together would be if Regina had succeeded in drumming her out of town. But she had asked her to stay and so Emma had tossed and turned in bed thoroughly confused, and ignoring the growing number of texts piling up on her phone.

Finally she turned the gadget off entirely and rolled over and pushed her face into the pillow. It was a troubled sleep that followed, filled with visions of a crying Regina and scared, wide-eyed Sidney. So much did not add up.

She awoke late, grouchy and seriously unimpressed with life. She turned on her cellphone and was still rubbing sleep out of her eyes when it sprang to life, virtually leaping all over her bed, with 24 missed texts and calls.

She scrolled down them. Mostly from Regina, ranging from questioning to terse to questioning her wellbeing … Emma's eyebrows rose … then back to terse and finally angry and resentful.

The phone jangled in her hands and she peered at the screen. She recognised the number and stabbed the answer button.

"Em? Shit it's Ruby, where the hell have you been? The mayor's having kittens trying to find you."

"Hey Rubes. Well the mayor can get over herself because her employee has been otherwise engaged."

There was a long silence followed by a deep sucking in of air. "Really, Em, that's the way you're playing this? Cos a few weeks ago you'd have given your back teeth to have Her Mayoral Broodiness crawling all over you for your attention like this."

"Rubes, enough. Is that all you rang about?"

"No, geez, take a chill pill, hon. I was wondering if you were planning on coming in today? Or if your 'flu' was still, ah, raging."

"It's still raging," Emma ground out. She had a thought. "Well,unless you need for me to be fine again? Are you coping OK?"

"Oh no it's great. Quite like being the boss lady for once!" the other woman cackled. "Well except when it involves the mayor storming in here first thing demanding to know where you are. God you must have done a number on her cos she looked like she'd been up all night. She was a complete mess."

"The mayor's condition doesn't concern me, Rubes. That's everything?"

"Sheeyah right. She's all you've been moping about these last six months. But if that's the way you wanna play it. So what do I do if she comes back?"

"Tell her what I told you. I have the flu."

"Gotcha. Ooh and if you need to stay away for the rest of the week, that's cool too – I could use the overtime. Granny's birthday is next week. She has her eye on some new celebrity chef pot set she saw on TV. Expensive things, though. Copper bottoms."

"Mmm. I'll let you know, Rubes. 'Kay, thanks."

"Welcome."

The phone clunked dead. Regina looked dreadful? Emma tried to quash the painful stab of guilt she felt.

Then the memories of the previous day came flooding back, and she felt her irritation rise as she recalled the grateful, fawning letter – one of so many in that file. It enraged her all over again.

Her phone rang once more and she glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil. She let it ring for a bit to make Regina wonder, and then switched it off.

Play me? I forfeit the game, she growled to herself. She flopped back in bed and tried for the fiftieth time to make sense of the madness of Sidney and Regina.

After three days of having the 'flu' and not answering a single one of Regina's calls, Emma had finally reached a conclusion. She decided the reason she could not make sense of the letters was because they made no sense. The raw edge to her anger had faded and this time when she switched on her phone, she actually read the texts from the woman whose bed she had shared for more than a month.

There were angry texts. Puzzled texts. Emotional texts – citing Henry's confusion over her absence. (God forbid Regina herself would admit needing Emma.) And more angry texts. One vowed she was done with her. The next stated she would deign to give her another chance.

None of them aligned with someone playing games with her. She sounded like an unravelling woman in desperate need of sleep. And so it was when her phone buzzed the next time and the mayor's ID appeared, Emma exhaled sharply and pressed a different button.

"Miss Swan…" came an almost startled voice. "You answered."

"Obviously," Emma replied curtly.

There was another silence as the mayor appeared to digest that.

"Have I angered you in some way?" the tone sounded almost … hurt. Emma's eyebrows skidded skywards. This was a first.

Emma gave a slightly derisive laugh.

"What do you want from me Regina?" If that wasn't the million-dollar question.

"You already know what I want, my dear. Now I want to know why you have been so rudely ignoring me these past three days. You don't sound sick in the slightest, regardless of what you told your deputy to tell me. And Henry was concerned."

Emma almost rolled her eyes. "Only Henry?" she asked dryly. "Figures."

"Oh I see, dear, why didn't you just say? This is some ploy for my attention? For me to tell you I missed your presence? I didn't realise you were acting my son's age. But fine, yes, your absence has been noted. By both of us. All better now?" The insincere sneer was hard to miss.

Emma stared at her phone in disbelief.

"I do not require patting on the head like a ten year old. And when it comes to ploys, you should talk."

"What on earth does that mean?"

God, she almost sounded wounded. Emma shook her head. The gall.

"When were you going to tell me you and Sidney are adorable pen pals? Such a cosy friendship you have for someone you helped send to jail. Have you both been playing me?"

There was hard, ragged breathing for a good ten seconds until finally Emma heard in a low, anguished voice: "Meet me at home. Now."

The phone went dead.

Emma briefly considered disobeying purely for the perverse satisfaction of not doing whatever Regina demanded. But even as the thought entered her head she discovered she was already pulling on her boots and reaching for her jacket and car keys.

As if she would say no. Besides, it wasn't hard to notice Regina's ragged, emotional voice was not that of someone whose nefarious scheme had just been exposed.

Well one way or another she was finally going to get to the bottom of this.


	19. Understanding too little, too much

Regina looked agitated, Emma noted, as she stood on the mansion's top steps observing the woman she had snubbed for three days. Her eyes were bloodshot. Ruby had not been exaggerating. Even now they flicked angrily over Emma's form and if she didn't know better, beyond the rage she could see relief at the sight of her.

"Well do come in, dear," came the sarcastic voice and Emma realised she'd been staring. "Although I note you clearly have no reluctance to make yourself at home. You abused your key privileges. Breaking and entering? Don't bother denying it. I found my filing cabinet unlocked."

She abruptly turned and walked towards her study and Emma followed her mutely, shoving fists into her red jacket. There was no point denying the obvious. And, besides, that's not what they were really fighting about and they both knew it.

Regina slid into the tall leather chair in her office and indicated with a wave a shorter one, opposite, as though Emma had simply stopped by for a business meeting. It was only the shaking of Regina's hands as she flipped open a now familiar manila folder laid out before her that gave her away.

"Tell me something, Miss Swan," she began with a low, dangerous tone. "Do you ever get tired of being this stupid?"

Emma crossed her arms and scowled darkly.

"Your assumptions keep getting you in trouble and making my life ever more miserable," Regina continued with a glare, then slapped open the folder. A stack of letters appeared.

"You know you could have just asked to see the contents of this," the mayor continued with a sour pull of her mouth.

"Yeah right. Like we ever have a normal conversation about anything."

Regina's movements stilled and her eyes narrowed.

"You have some nerve going on the offensive, my dear. You are the common criminal in this little scenario."

"I am not the one consorting with the enemy," Emma retorted. "Sending that asshole gifts, trying to get him out early. What the hell is that about? Have you forgotten what he…"

Regina's flashing, enraged eyes stopped Emma instantly and the words died on her lips.

The mayor's head tilted back and a cold, mocking mask dropped over her face. "Have I forgotten what he did?" she repeated sweetly. "Really, my dear. After all those nights seeing me wake up from HELL, you want to ask if I have forgotten? No. I haven't. Nor have I forgotten what you did, dear. Which brings us back to your ever-growing list of crimes against intelligence."

Emma felt the familiar wash of humiliation and then felt instantly irritated all over again. Every time Regina wanted to win a point, all she had to do was invoke that. And Emma had no counter for it because there was none. She didn't expect Regina to ever forgive or forget, but to use what happened that awful day to score points meant they would never progress anywhere. They would just loop endlessly with recrimination and regrets. She sighed. How had this conversation gotten so out of control?

She tried to focus on what they were doing here.

"Look," the sheriff ground out, "Just tell me why. Why are you all cosy with Sidney Glass after what he did? And more importantly WHY are you helping that slimey weasel get out of jail early?"

She watched as fury flashed across Regina's tight face.

"I'm not," she growled. "I hope the little toad rots in there."

"But I read…"

"What I needed him to believe."

Emma fell silent. Shit. It hadn't actually entered her head that Regina was playing Sidney, not the two playing her. And that's why nothing fit.

This wasn't even about her.

Emma felt completely stupid. Again.

"So you two didn't conspire together to…" Emma's brain processed aloud.

"Have me raped?" Regina supplied with a cold smile. "No, Miss Swan, oddly enough, we did NOT."

She flicked through the letters to the bottom of the folder and pulled one out and slid it over the desk.

"His first communication to me. As you can see from the date, it was written a week after he was incarcerated."

Emma read the letter, observing the angry strokes of the penmanship, the capital letters in various words, and the vicious, perfectly well-spelled ranting invective. There was clearly no love lost there.

"His vow to 'rage against you for eternity' clearly passed," Emma muttered and pushed the letter back to Regina. "What changed?"

The brunette looked at her mockingly.

"Surely, Sheriff, you have just enough brains to work that out for yourself?"

Emma's mind whirred and then she realised exactly who she was dealing with. A master manipulator. A politician.

"You. You played him. Groomed him to get him back to your side."

Regina gave a curt nod. "Obviously. I needed him willing and compliant."

"For what?" She leaned forward and bit her lip.

"I do not like loose ends, Miss Swan."

Emma frowned. Regina sighed impatiently and tapped her index finger sharply on the desk.

"I wanted to know exactly why Glass wanted you to catch him out in his nasty scheme."

Emma's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Really, my dear, don't tell me this notion has only just occurred to you recently? So that's what this is all about now?"

A faint blush rose up Emma's neck. It was not helping that Regina was eyeing her as though she were particularly dim-witted.

"As soon as I heard your recording I realised the obvious flaw in your 'proof'," Regina said with a hint of derision. "Why would Glass text me when he had my phone in his custody? It was ridiculous. The man is not as foolish as he appears. And I know him extremely well. It stood out as being a deliberate choice."

"You never said anything," Emma whispered hoarsely, feeling like the world's biggest fool. Hell, she'd needed her own roommate to point the logic flaw out to her. Some brilliant detective she was.

"It wasn't relevant at the time. Who had set us up mattered more," Regina said tightly. "It only became of interest to me when I had time to think about it and it began irritating me not knowing everything."

"So did it work? Your … schmoozing. Did he tell you?"

Regina gave a sharp laugh. "Oh yes. Of course. He told me everything. Sung like a canary for the price of a few small luxuries and empty promises of early freedom. And it turns out, Miss Swan, that he didn't want you to catch him at all."

Emma frowned. "Huh?"

"He wanted me to."

"What?!"

Regina rolled her eyes. "Look at it from his perspective. If his plan had worked the way he envisioned, I'd have kicked or guilted you out of Storybrooke the moment you appeared like a cat in heat on my door step. And, sooner or later, I would have checked my phone, found his message, and confronted Glass. He'd have then smugly confessed he was the clever mastermind in ridding me of my nemesis. And presumably I would be overcome with immense gratitude for him."

"And profess undying love for him?" Emma's mouth fixed into a grim line. "Some grand plan," she scowled.

Regina looked down at the folder. She continued, her voice faltering slightly. "But, as we know, Glass did not allow for your single-mindedness in responding to his text. Nor my … shock – rendering me unable to play my 'part' in the scheme."

Shame flooded Emma again. 'Single-mindedness' was quite the euphemism for ignoring the brunette's cries of no. She opened her mouth to apologise again.

"Don't you dare say that word again," Regina snapped, head jerking up. "I know you're sorry. And I am tired of all of this. I just wanted my answers and then to move on and never think about it again."

Emma shook her head grimly. "I'd have left the bastard to rot if it was me. I want him to suffer, not feel good about himself, thinking that you like him again, even if it is all a lie."

"And that is the basic difference between us, my dear," Regina said, sliding the letter back inside the folder and slapping it shut. "You always think in such short-sighted terms. If you ever think at all. He will become aware of my true feelings when I deem it most advantageous. But you? You'd have just grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, given him a shake and demanded answers and got absolutely nothing out of him. You really are…"

Regina faded out and stared at her with such a look. Emma blinked back at her, finally identifying the expression as disappointment. Her heart sank to her boots.

"Pathetic," Regina finally muttered and rose to put the folder back into the filing cabinet. "You are so linear. So caveman basic, dear. Response to stimuli only. No big-picture planning for you. Heaven forbid. It was a mistake to ever …"

"What?" Emma asked staring hard at the shapely back of the woman bent over the filing cabinet.

"It no longer matters. Anyway you have your answer. You can see there is no conspiracy. Although anyone with half a brain would have worked that out without needing the beginner's level walkthrough."

Emma ignored the insult and swallowed. "I was wrong. OK? And I'm ... you know. That word you hate. So where does this leave us?"

Regina turned and folded her arms, pinning her with cold eyes. "I believe I have already explained to you once that there is no 'us'. And even if I wanted to consider it, you have neatly demonstrated to me yet again why it's an absurd idea. You simply lack any understanding of me at all."

"And whose fault is that?" Emma asked, tilting her head.

"What?" Regina snapped.

"Perhaps I don't entirely understand you. Yes I made assumptions that were wrong, really freaking wrong, but there's a reason. It's because you never let anyone in. All of us have no choice but to guess what the fuck you're thinking cos you never tell us anything. All we ever get is Miss Enigmatic Mayor. Strike a pose, shoot a mysterious look, make an acerbic comment. Move on. Rinse and repeat.

"You said before I could have asked about the folder. That's a lie and you know it. You like keeping everyone in Storybrooke in the dark – it makes you feel powerful or something. But it won't help you find happiness or be less lonely or terrified at night. And you want to talk about truly stupid? How about the fact you won't even get help to treat the nightmares that are torturing you. I don't mean talk to me, necessarily – but at least talk to Hopper or someone who can help."

Emma knew her tone had turned beseeching, but to hell with it. She'd seen enough of this woman's agony to last a lifetime. Her unwillingness to even admit aloud she was in agony was so needless.

"I did talk to him," Regina spat back. "That little insect is perfectly useless. And who I do or do not consult in this matter is none of your concern."

"Says the woman who wakes up trembling in my arms at night."

"An arrangement I'd be more than happy to discontinue."

"An arrangement you are so desperate to continue you left me two dozen text messages when I didn't return your calls for just three days."

"An arrangement I would not need to be in if you hadn't violated me."

They were so close, their eyes flashing. Emma wasn't sure how they'd gotten this close. One minute Regina had been standing by the filing cabinet, spitting invective and shooting off sparks. The next … Emma stepped right inside Regina's space. She was close enough that she could smell her perfume. See the tiny beads of sweat at her temple and watch the flutter of a racing pulse at her neck.

"I said I was sorry," Emma whispered. She finally lowered her eyes and admitted in defeat: "You do know how dysfunctional and co-dependent this shit is, right? Needing to be with the one who hates us? Or, in your case, needing the one you hate?"

Regina swallowed and her shoulders slumped a fraction. Finally she admitted: "I do actually know that, dear, thank you. You think I want to… need you?"

"Regina," Emma hissed leaning forward until their foreheads were virtually resting against each other and their breaths were mingling. "You think I want to be treated like your trained poodle that you just say one word to and I drop everything and scamper over to you in the middle of the night because I am just so fucking grateful to be of use to you? That I don't care about anything? Even my own dignity? Like if my back aches from sleeping on your floor? Or if I haven't had a decent night's sleep for five and a half months? But none of it matters cos you've texted one insulting little word demanding my presence and that's enough for me."

"Miss Swan," Regina exhaled heavily, eyes squeezing closed. "Do you think I like knowing you only stay with me because it assuages your deep well of guilt? You think I don't notice how exhausted you are at breakfast? That it's all you can do to keep your eyes open? That you couldn't remember Henry's name last week? You actually tried three times before giving up. He asked me later who 'Harold' was."

Emma grimaced and finally inched near the elephant in the room. "Do you think I like that you snuggle me when you're asleep and then pretend when you wake that I was the one who wrapped myself around you? The way you act like I'm the one being overly-familiar? Like I won't remember it was your fingers mapping out my boobs a minute before?"

Regina closed her eyes and whispered. "Do you think I like liking your body being wrapped around mine? A woman I am supposed to hate, who barged into my life and my son's life and who hurt me in ways I never … I … I am not supposed to want you like that. I hate that I do." Her voice broke. "Can you understand how hard that is for me? I hate that I like you like that." A tear slipped from her tightly clenched eyelids. "It's so wrong." Her voice trembled.

"God, Regina," Emma sighed. She leaned forward the last tiny bit, closing the gap and softly kissed her, then also kissed the tear away. She pulled apart after less than a second, half expecting to be pushed away. Instead Regina's eyes flashed open and she reached out, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and pushed their mouths back together. Her tongue demanded entry and Emma unhesitatingly gave it.

Regina pressed Emma against the wall and was kissing her hungrily, her hands everywhere and the startled blonde felt arousal course through her. But her mind was screaming enough warnings for her to slow things down and she quickly snapped her head to one side to break the kiss.

Undaunted the mayor was nibbling up the side of her neck, sucking on her skin, making a dark mark. Claiming her.

"Regina, we should stop," Emma began urgently. "I-we… hell, we both gave enough reasons just now as to why this is a bad idea. Dysfunctional, remember? Co-dependent? Fucked up?"

The lips nibbled their way up Emma's chin, back towards her mouth.

"And you won't thank me later," she tried again. "You may even say I somehow got you caught up into something you never wanted. And, seriously, I couldn't go through that hell ever again."

Regina pulled away and her fiery eyes trapped Emma's. The blonde could see passion, desire and so much more.

"I want this, Miss Swan. There, it's on the record. So can we move on?" Lips were nibbling again and it was becoming harder for Emma to think straight.

"But I…"

Regina pulled away again with an impatient sigh. "Unless you're saying you don't? In which case, consider me very confused indeed, Miss Swan." Regina waited a beat and then her lips returned to her earlobe.

"I… you know I do. I have never hidden how I felt. But please… oh god… yes… I … there … how can we ever have a real relationship when this is so messed up? We have so much baggage. Oh! Goddd."

"Miss Swan, who said anything about a real relationship?" The lips left her skin and Emma mourned their loss. "I thought we both merely had an itch that desperately needs scratching before we immolate from this unhealthy level of tension. And I, for one, am very goal-oriented." She gave a low, sexy laugh that made Emma's knees want to buckle. There was a white flash of perfect teeth and an amused curve of lips.

To illustrate her point Emma felt fingertips scratching across her nipples, from hands that had somehow wormed themselves under her tanktop.

"You're killing me. _Killing_ _me_ ," she heard herself mutter from what seemed far away.

"Mmm, my dear," the brunette murmured approvingly, dropping back to nuzzle Emma's neck. "I had rather hoped so."

"I mean, we can't. Not just for some quick thrills we probably won't even talk about tomorrow. Regina, I want to be in a real, equal partnership with you. Where we don't just share a bed, we share our bodies and… _ohhh_ …. And our minds, and our thoughts and all that other stuff. You know, _real_ stuff. OK, I know I haven't done that before but I want to. With you."

"I just explained that I don't do relationships, Miss Swan," came an amused hum somewhere south of her clavicle. She felt fingers dropping to the button on her jeans. The sound of her zipper sliding down filled her ears. "And besides, even if I did relationships," the voice continued, muffled against the cloth between her breasts, "I wouldn't with you. We're not even friends." Fingers slipped inside her jeans and began to descend down the outside of her cotton boy shorts. The blonde felt her wetness magnify a thousand fold. Those long questing fingers were so close…

Then Regina's words seeped into her brain.

Emma froze and latched onto the wrist worming down her pants. She swallowed.

"Stop. Regina, just stop."

The brunette paused, blowing hair out of her eyes and looking up impatiently. "What is it now?"

"I need you like air, I do. But not at any cost. We have to stop."

"I thought this was what you wanted?" Regina asked in genuine confusion. "And don't tell me you don't. All those mornings, tell me you didn't think of me doing this to you." Her fingers wiggled against Emma's core, through her panties, and the blonde hissed at the erotic sensation. Regina gave a seductive smile. "Did you know I could always smell your arousal? And the top of my thigh didn't get wet all by itself, my dear."

Emma felt her entire face flame red. She hadn't realised she was so obvious.

"I have to go," she muttered and jerked the other woman's hand out of her pants. "Regina, this – _like this_ – isn't the way I want it. You doing me up against the wall like I'm an easy screw? Is that what you think of me? God – no, don't answer that."

Regina watched Emma turn away as she tucked in her tanktop and zipped up her jeans.

"You don't understand. I could _never_ do a relationship," the mayor repeated numbly as if that explained everything.

"You've made that clear. Maybe I give off the wrong vibe or something, but I don't have sex with people who don't consider me even a friend. By the way, I had thought we were. You know?" her voice broke, "despite it all, maybe because of it all - I really _had_ thought we were friends now."

Regina's eyes narrowed. Lipstick was smudged down her face, her lips grimly pressed together.

"You make so many foolish mistakes, don't you dear? We'll just add this latest assumption to the list, like the appalling one you made that brought you over here today," the brunette said coldly. "And you are very wrong. We could _never_ be friends. How could I and someone like you ever be friends?"

Emma sighed. "It's probably best if you don't text me tonight. I really do love you, Regina," she added softly. "Enough to say no to this." She waved her hand between them and glancing significantly at the wall she'd just been almost ravished against.

The mayor gave a derisive snort and crossed her arms. "I cannot give you the alternative. Ever."

Emma took in Regina's angry face, willing herself to think of the perfect comeback. Willing herself not to break down and reveal she was as unworthy and rejected as she felt. She paused. As rejected as Regina also appeared.

As she looked at the brunette, really looked, in a blinding flash she finally understood. She sucked in a breath, earning a questioning eyebrow tilt from the other woman.

It was just like the letters from Sidney. This wasn't even about her.

She reached over to the brunette, watching Regina's nostrils flare at the intrusion, and trailed fingertips down her cheek softly. The mayor blinked at her uncertainly.

Emma stared into the dark, brown eyes in front of her and asked in a sad whisper: "Who did this to you?"

She felt rather than saw the flinch and didn't wait for an answer, didn't want to see the crushed expression or hear the denials or witness a barely mustered flash of defiance. She knew she was right.

In more ways than she cared to admit, she finally understood Regina.

Emma let her hand drop and turned and walked to the door. She did not look back, knowing Regina would be staring numbly after her. Furious at being exposed.

And now hating her for understanding her far too well.

_Oh, the irony._


	20. BROKEN

Dr Archie Hopper viewed the woman seated across from him at his desk, her fingers drumming viciously on the oak surface.

"Well?'' she demanded. "Are you going to help or not? What can you even do anyway? Let me guess - prescribe sedatives, I suppose? Or will you suggest 'hypnosis'?'' She put derisive finger quote marks in the air around the last word and leaned forward as if inspecting his soul. She stared at him closely for a beat and then leaned back again as though she found said soul sorely wanting.

Regina Mills had never been the most pleasant person Archie Hopper had ever met, and he had met a few of those in his profession. Nor was she the easiest to deal with, especially when she was in a mood. But she was definitely the most tortured person he'd ever met and the one most in denial about it. And for that reason he considered it a minor miracle she was even in his office at all today. He was still trying to get to the bottom of which straw that broke the camel's back had driven her in here.

But she kept evading the topic.

"In good time we will examine all the options available,'' he said soothingly. "But first, when you say you can't sleep without help, but the help you had you'd 'Rather not call on again even if it was a choice between that and a fiery pit in Hell', to what are you referring? Surely if you found an effective solution for your insomnia, you should stick with it?''

Regina's eyes narrowed dangerously and Archie had to will himself not to arch his head back from the sheer force of menace she was suddenly shooting his way.

"That is no longer possible. I will not permit myself to, to... go through that again.''

"Through what?'' he asked, confused. "Just explain - how have you been so effectively getting yourself to sleep prior to this week?''

"None of your business, Doctor,'' Regina snarled and leaned forward. "And it wasn't an 'effective solution' anyway because the nightmares still persisted. Now are you going to help me find a substitute for her or not!''

"Her?!'' Archie felt his eyes widen, and his mouth drop open. He quickly closed it again but his response had been noted.

Regina looked like she wished she could rip her own tongue out. She rose from her chair and he thought for one moment she was about to storm out.

It wouldn't be the first time. The highly-strung and dreadfully skittish mayor had made three abortive visits to him earlier this week, and so far this one was lasting the longest. Although it was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing.

However instead of leaving, the brunette walked slowly to the window and stared outside, clasping her hands behind her midnight black jacket, saying nothing. He observed the tense lines in her body language, and the exhausted way she subtly leaned against the window frame for support.

He knew sooner or later something would have to give. No one could go on like this. Henry now spent most of his sessions worrying about his mother's state of mind and Archie had to keep assuring him that when she was ready to get help he would be there. Now finally here she was.

Archie puzzled over the mayor's admission and the identity of the woman helping her sleep at night.

Absurd as it seemed, only one name kept floating to the top of his list as likely enough to both rile Regina this much and yet also be allowed inside her inner sanctum. The woman had, from day one, simply marched right up to Storybrooke's most vicious lion and poked her in the eye, ignoring the outraged roars.

"Miss Swan. Miss Swan helps you sleep?''

Her head whipped around from the window at the name and for a second he saw the hint of anguish before the shutters came down.

"Helped,'' she corrected waspishly. "Past tense. And don't look at me like that. I am not having tawdry sex with ... with ... my rapist.''

She crossed her arms and glared.

"The thought hadn't occurred to me,'' Archie said innocently. "But I am curious as to why you thought it had. Have you contemplated making love with Miss Swan? Is this what is upsetting you? Because of what happened between you? You are now having an inner conflict?''

The growl from her throat was so low and frighteningly animalistic that this time the doctor did flinch.

"Miss Swan and I would NEVER 'make love' as you so quaintly put it. She is a common criminal and I'm... I'm...'' She petered out and glanced away.

"You're?'' Archie asked, canting his head to one side, curious as to why she hadn't actually listed her town-leader credentials or lofty status as she usually did.

"I'm...'' she threw her hands up and then walked back to the chair and sat heavily in it. She sighed exhaustedly as though she had no fight left to hide her feelings. "Surely you knew," she said with a faint smile. "I'm broken.''

She said it so softly Archie had to strain to hear the word. Then she was continuing, her voice a dry husk. "I could never do that. It's so ... intimate.'' She said the word as though the mere idea disgusted her.

She shook her head and a hint of her trademark fire surfaced in her eyes. "And as if I would lower myself,'' she added as an afterthought.

"Mmm,'' Archie said unconvinced. He eyed her and then swallowed. Time to finally have the talk.

"Tell me something," he began. "Leopold. Graham. Emma. What do they have in common?''

Regina's mouth twitched coldly. "Me. On top of me. Or under me,'' her eyes glittered darkly, the warning clear. "Why?'' she ground out, daring him to continue on such risky ground.

"Were there others?''

"None of your business.''

"Do you not see the common theme?''

Regina scowled but shook her head sharply once.

"All your sexual experiences have involved abuse of power for sex, or actual sexual assault.''

He could see the outrage chase across her features, could see she was dying to deny Graham had been used by her in that way. Perhaps used exactly the same way others had used her.

Archie was prepared for the denial but he actually knew the truth. The late sheriff had become inebriated at a party a few years back and confessed his secret shame over Regina's little arrangement - her power kicks and intimidation. His weakness and her control. The lopsided dance of power they did at Granny's B&B on Thursdays and Saturdays. Monday nights at her house. How sometimes she did not always ask permission and took him as though it was her divine right.

The day after the party confessions, the sheriff had sought him out and denied it all as a drunken man's foolish nonsense. He hadn't even looked Archie in the eye. The doctor had tried to press him but the man just gruffly told him to leave it be. They had never discussed it again ... until that night.

Two years had passed and one night, shortly before he'd suddenly died, a confused, staggering Graham had cornered him on the street. Pushing him against a store front by the lapels he had leaned in and, in an anguished, chillingly sober whisper, had began to tell him of repressed memories surfacing. Memories of a crazed, vicious Regina, dressed in wild, dark clothes, doing more than merely toying with him. Cruel, cold memories. Where she never once asked permission.

Archie hadn't known what to think. The man had clearly been suffering some sort of mental break. He was tempted to dismiss the strange rambling encounter - and yet... That night still haunted him. And every now and then when he saw the town's mayor at her worst, her eyes flashing darkly, looking like she would love to crush the heart of some annoying town's minion, the memory would return and he would wonder if it was a mere delusion or based on something else.

"You know nothing!" Regina suddenly hissed.

Archie waited for the predictable denial. Would she explain in detail some rationalisation that Graham liked it rough or Archie had misunderstood or...

"I ... there was one man I loved and he loved me!''

She forced it out like proof, as if not wanting to reveal it and yet unable to stop herself. As if dredging up this precious memory made her valid and proved she was human underneath it all.

Archie started at this unexpected turn. "You had a lover where there was equality, love and mutual respect?''

He couldn't quite school the surprise from his voice and was irritated by himself for it. He should better learn to hide his feelings.

"I... no.''

Regina looked down at hands twisting in her lap and he could see the tiniest hint of tears glistening in sad eyes. "He died. Before we could do more than kiss ... I was young. We were young. It was before everything turned bad. He wasn't my lover, but he was my hope and my whole world.''

Archie could feel the oceans of pain lancing that sentence. He noted her voice had changed pitch, turning almost childlike and years seemed to instantly melt off her face.

"Regina,'' he said gently as if addressing a child. "You are still worthy of love. You had it once. You can have it again, even if you do feel broken. Which brings us back to where we began. The idea of ... if you weren't feeling so broken ... do you feel that you might want to find love in the arms of Emma Swan?'' he asked carefully.

One must never assume. But he did have eyes and a brain.

Regina's mouth opened and then closed again. She seemed both appalled and confused.

"I don't kn... It's really not possible,'' she finally snapped. And suddenly adult Regina was most definitely back in the room. "It's useless to even consider it. Even if I wanted to - which I do not. I mean the idea is absurd! Her and me? Really! Have you seen the car she drives? And the way she walks? Like a caveman. And talks? And how she... she... stands? And looks at me like me I'm a goddamned dessert? We have nothing in common. She's ... it's insane.''

Archie wondered who she was trying so hard to convince.

"Perhaps,'' he said non-committally. "And I would be the first to say there would be many obstacles and some fairly good reasons for you not to pursue this relationship, at least not now."

Regina's head snapped up and Archie saw hurt and betrayal. He wondered if she even knew that she was giving him dagger glares for suggesting a relationship that she had only just condemned might not be for the best.

"But the heart wants what the heart wants," he continued, noting her outraged eyes soften again. "So, if you like, we can perhaps talk about why you think it's so impossible.''

"It's absurd,'' she repeated again and this time she sounded even less certain. Finally she shook her head and seemed completely lost.

"Indeed," he replied, for want of something else to say.

For a long moment they just stared at each other. He could see her weighing the degrees of "absurdity" she felt when she considered being with Emma Swan.

It appeared to be a long list.

A look of fear finally washed across her eyes and it was like a light going out. As if suddenly realising where she was, Regina's entire face changed. Dismay and embarrassment flooded her features.

She snarled. "We are done. You will tell no one of this, doctor. This conversation never took place.''

"No, of course, Mayor Mills. Doctor-client privilege means I would nev...''

"I have no idea why I even came here,'' she said angrily, rising. "It's a waste of time. Nothing ever changes.''

"It can if you want it to. If you want me to help you, emotionally, prepare to be in a loving relationship with Miss Swan, I can...''

"I want nothing of the sort and if you breathe so much a word of that to anyone I will make you pay dearly.''

"Mayor Mills, there's no need for threats. It's alright to want some love in your life.''

"I have love in my life! I have Henry!'' she snapped and this time she really did look like she was going to leave. "And the notion I would ever want to have it with that woman, the woman who tried to RAPE me...''

"Also the woman who helps you sleep at night when you clearly need it so desperately,'' he responded as she stalked towards the door.

"Not anymore,'' Regina said. "Never again. She made demands for something I could never give. You yourself listed my less-than-desirable dating history. We both know it's true.''

"No one is suggesting you rush into dating anyone. We're just considering all sides of the issues, where you are now, where you want to go. But may I ask - what demands?''

The mayor paused and leaned against the door.

"More,'' she said. "She wants more. I can't give her anything like that. I have nothing inside to give.''

She almost painfully slapped her hand into the door frame when she said it. Archie eyed her sympathetically.

"You keep telling yourself that and one day you might even believe it," he said softly, as her eyes instantly grew wide with rage. "In the meantime...''

The door furiously slamming made the framed degree on his wall shake.

"... I am here to talk whenever you need and to help repair what makes you feel broken," he finished to the now shut door. "Any time," he said lamely to himself.

Five minutes later, the text message that landed in Emma Swan's phone made the blonde pause in her tracks. Ten small but potent words.

Emma felt her world collapse. Dimly she could hear Mary Margaret calling out to her. Asking what was wrong. She vaguely felt arms come around her shoulders and realised somehow she was now on her knees in the middle of her apartment.

Wordlessly she handed her phone to her housemate whose eyes scoured the small LED screen.

"It's time. You will now leave Storybrooke. Never come back. R."


	21. THE CLOCKS HANDS SHIFT

**18 MONTHS LATER**

Emma Swan shoved her fists into the pockets of her favourite red leather jacket, noting it was getting a bit worn now but she couldn't quite bring herself to get a new one. Too many memories invested in it. Some of the fondest involved a certain mayor's derisive scowl which never quite reached her eyes. She had long suspected the prickly brunette protested a little too much about her hatred for this particular article of clothing.

At the thought of the mayor she tried to repress the inevitable pangs of regret and sadness, a little less acute now at least after 18 months, as she trudged up four flights of stairs in the dingy brick office block. Faded once-white paint peeled off the interior walls, and the steep stairs looked like they hadn't been washed since the war. The Civil War.

She didn't need to contemplate yet again all that she had given up. All that she missed so keenly that for the first six months all she could do was hold her ribs in a tiny flea-bitten hotel bed and wheeze, trying to hold back the sobs. Trying to forget all of it. All of them. Her.

Besides, life was, for the most part, acceptable enough now. She watched her black knee-high boots rhythmically pound up the stairs as she considered what had happened since.

It's not like she had cut off all contact with Storybrooke. She exchanged occasional emails with Mary Margaret, Ruby and the kid from time to time. She was careful never to give an actual address and was always vague about where she lived now. The last thing she needed was a Storybrooke posse making an appearance in her life and weakening what little resolve she had to honour her promise to leave the town for good.

After a year, Henry's emails had even stopped pleading with her to return in short, angry words containing all capital letters. And he was also no longer sending blatantly manipulative appeals to her heart that she had become an expert at ignoring with the help of a certain Uncle Jim Beam at the local dive.

Finally it seemed he - all of them really - had accepted his birth mother was never returning to their town. Ever.

One thing they all knew to do was never mention Regina. The pain had been so acute she had begged them for no news at all under pain of her disappearing forever if they disobeyed. And each had dutifully honoured her request.

Until a few months ago.

That's when she received The Email. The one Emma had read so many times she now knew it word for word. From Henry. _Of course he would be the one to break the vow to spare her from Regina updates._

Even now she could still see the Arial 10pt characters swirling in her mind. Word for word.

Emma had stared at the email for almost an hour, trying and failing to quash the emotions that suddenly swamped her. When she felt the wet splashes she realised she had been crying all over her keyboard.

It all came crashing back to her, everything she thought she had been able to repress. The good as well as the bad. But especially the bad.

Like those horrible goodbyes.

_Not again,_ she pleaded to herself. No way she was going to relive that again. She'd seen enough of seedy bars and icy rattles in spirit glasses to last a lifetime when she first left Storybrooke.

A flash of anguished Mary Margaret's face as she was clinging to her in a farewell hug hit her. She felt the grasp of Henry's tight little arms around her waist begging her "Don't go, don't go, I don't care what you promised her, I need you. You have to stay".

And the sight of a familiar, predatory black car, tinted windows firmly up, by the corner, stopped. Its occupant watching from afar. As Emma drove away, seeing dozens of Storybrooke residents waving her off in the rear-vision mirror, from a concerned, frowning Archie Hopper to an unravelling, sniffling Granny, she saw the car stayed there the whole time, unmoving. Her very own 'fuck-you Emma' farewell sentinel.

_Making sure she was really gone, probably,_ Emma thought.

She'd tried to talk to her. Within an hour after she got the text, after Mary Margaret calmed her down and urged her to talk to Regina, she had raced around to see her. The door was slammed viciously hard in her face. All she had seen before the white door and a "108" filled her vision was a glimpse of fear behind anguished brown eyes moments before.

_What was she afraid of?_ It made no sense.

Emma grimaced. She could still remember how Storybrooke had smelt that last day, and taste the slight saltiness and iron in the air. Only later she realised she had bitten her lip to try not to react to the wall of emotions crashing on her and people confessing love and sadness over her. Her - Emma Swan! It was so uncomfortable and strange.

She forced herself to not think of the past. Again. Henry's small betrayed eyes, filled with tears, slowly dissolved before her mind's eye just as she reached the top of the stairs.

A frosted glass door was in front of her with the words 'Bail Bondsperson' and she couldn't help but smirk. She had an actual office. She, Emma Swan, mistress of the open road, had rented office space. OK so it was more one star than five star, but still.

It was still hard to get used to at times. Something had changed her in Storybrooke, something fundamental to who she was. She tried not to think about that too hard, either.

She opened the door, slipping her freezing hands back into her jacket, as she gently closed it with her shapely boot.

"Mandy," she said with an easy grin at the portly woman she employed as a casual secretary whenever her bounty-hunting work started piling up.

"Hey boss," the 30-something redhead said with an impish grin and a saucy smack of chewing gum. "Nice of you to join us. You were 'sposed to be back in Boston last week."

Emma was instantly hit by the woman's lavender scent which Mandy seemed to almost bathe herself in. For all she knew, she did. Woman was into all sorts of New Age stuff if the crystals and runes scattered about the desk were anything to go by. Part of her charm, Emma supposed, trying to block out the overpowering smell with a twitch of outraged nostrils.

"Got held up," the blonde answered with a shrug, trying not to think of the size of the thug who had been doing the holding. Literally.

He had been a brute of a man, off his face on god knows what illicit substances, and did not take too kindly to being told there was a warrant out for his arrest. And then his even larger friends had come to see what the fuss was about. That had been messy.

She winced as she remembered all the bruises and scrapes that little encounter had earned her. She'd needed to rest her badly twisted ankle for a week after that, which left her unable to drive back to Boston.

Emma slid one jean-clad thigh onto the side of the desk and eyed her part-time secretary. The girl's sweet, plump features and good nature were a vastly pleasing sight after six weeks on the road and meeting leering, drunken bastards at truck stops asking her "how much" by way of greasy introduction. She eyed Mandy's bent head as the redhead efficiently sorted through a tray of paperwork.

"OK, your messages - Boston PD wants to talk to you about Nigel Whitman, that deceased-estate thief you caught two months ago. Say they need to know exactly which brothel you tracked him down in. Apparently it's to do with evidence in his case. Could be crucial to nailing him on some other charges."

She passed a letter across to Emma who thought back to the smarmy shit who felt her up while she was posing as a brothel hooker.

"Anything to put that creep away," she said with a shudder as she remembered some of the things he'd hissed in her ear. "Tell them it was Rosie's on the coastal road. What else?"

"Shania down the hall at the legal office wants to know if you're free for dinner when you get back," she said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. "She seems to think your first date ended 'far too early' last time."

Emma grunted. "Well it will do that when one of us starts flirting with the waitress before first course even arrives."

"That was her who did that, right?" Mandy clarified cluelessly. "Shame, she did seem like your sort. Brunette, power suit, great legs..."

Emma rolled her eyes, not dignifying her unerring accuracy with a response. She wondered how she had gotten so domestic to even have someone like this tease her. Mandy did remind her of a Ruby in a way. Her eyes glazed over affectionately. She did miss Ruby's playful charms.

She caught herself. _Why did everything have to come back to Storybrooke?_

"Oh that reminds me, you have a visitor. In your office. Claims to be an old friend."

"I don't have any old friends," Emma said with a frown but slid off the desk and strode towards her battered office door. "None who would leave their pedestrian little town in the middle of nowhere, anyway."

She flung the door open. There, in an immaculate tailored suit, tight navy pencil skirt, white linen shirt, three buttons undone, and shiny, high navy heels sat a most impressive figure. The woman smiled, scarlet lips curving in a hint of amusement as she leaned slightly forward, her cleavage as familiar as it was magnificent.

"Oh Jesus." Emma sank into her chair, opposite, as she forgot entirely how to work her muscles.

"No. Regina Mills, actually. Although you might remember me as the mayor of some pedestrian little town in the middle of nowhere you visited once."


	22. LOOKING FOR YELLOW IN A SEA OF GREY

**18 MONTHS EARLIER**

Regina Mills took one look at the agitated face of Emma Swan at her door and slammed it in her face. She leaned back against the door of her home and sank to the floor, emotions hammering her from every angle. She couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't face Swan. Couldn't face these competing feelings which seemed to attack her like writhing, squirming eels. Couldn't face the lack of sleep and the horrible nightmares. Couldn't face Hopper's impertinent questions.

Damn the man. He already knew far too much about her without somehow filling in the gaps on his own.

Regina rubbed her eyes with the base of her hands, trying to ignore Emma's pleas for entry from the other side of the shuddering door. Was she actually hitting it with her fist? Regina shook her head and then buried it in her folded arms across the knees bent under her chin.

Now she could hear a beseeching "Why?''. She could hear the anguish. It mirrored her own. And it was fracturing her already fragile heart.

It was too much. This. All this.

She was going insane.

Dimly, somewhere at the back of her fading brain, she knew she should probably open the door. Sit down like an adult with Emma Swan and explain. All of it. The 'too much' that came from seeing her every day. Dealing with her. Her churning emotions. Her pain. Anger. Fear. Too much. All too much.

Even Hopper had pretty much told her it wouldn't work. Swan and her. Bad idea. Damn insect was probably right for once.

She was broken. With Swan she'd only make her broken, too. Well, more broken.

Apart they had a chance. Well at least the sheriff did.

Regina leaned her head back against the door, relieved the thrumming from the other side had finally stopped.

But for herself? She would always be broken.

* * *

 

In the end her first guess had been the right one. Drugs. Hopper prescribed her sedatives when it became clear she had no intention of talking about herself with him again. And not talking was doing nothing to get her sleep patterns restored, so he had put her on these little white pills. Regina eyed the pair of tablets in irritation before throwing them back and swallowing with a long sip of water. She hated this. This weakness. Relying on the external to do what should come naturally.

She slid into bed and pulled the covers up, wondering, as she always did at this time of night, where Emma was now.

It had been a fortnight. A fortnight of not seeing the annoying blonde or her risible deathtrap vehicle anywhere in Storybrooke's streets. Not encountering her smug smirks or, Regina sucked in a breath, her slow, not-so-secretly admiring looks. Her bullish charms. Her dancing eyes. Regina frowned. _Not dancing._ Piercing.

Or ... she tried to think of a more condemning word. Nothing came to her. If she were honest, Emma Swan did have lovely eyes. She gave a half smile as she thought about that.

Her smile faded after a moment.

It had also been a fortnight of anger. From Henry, in particular, who appeared to be on a speaking strike. Refusing to answer any of her questions at meal times, just glaring darkly at her. Occasionally he would yell at her and run upstairs and slam the door to his bedroom. She would hear things being thrown. Then silence. In a way that was the worst part. Not knowing if he was crying himself to sleep or sitting there brooding about his hate for her or emailing Emma on his computer.

Oh, she knew about that. Mary Margaret had told her email addresses had been exchanged. And later she told her that Emma had specifically insisted no one in Storybrooke give her any updates about the mayor.

Hearing that had hurt far more than she thought it would.

Emma wanted her erased from her life, too? Fine. That seemed only fair.

Except she didn't feel the slightest bit fine.

She pushed the thought away and reached for her cider glass before remembering she wasn't allowed to have it anymore with these disgusting little pills.

Her hand fell away again and formed a fist. Impulsively she struck her bedside table. It didn't feel better for the angry thump, but nothing did anymore.

She rubbed her hand with a scowl. She could still remember the fidgety way Mary Margaret had imparted the news that Emma wanted to know nothing more about her. The nervous woman had swallowed anxiously and then looked down at her feet.

The mayor took a moment to consider the teacher. Of all the people in Storybrooke, Regina had expected to get a fair amount of grief from the other brunette. She might be a mousy little thing, but when it came to loyalty, she could be formidable, sticking out her jaw more pugnaciously than Henry as she made a stand on this issue or that.

Instead, Regina had been subjected to something far worse. Sympathy. Understanding. Pitying looks. If she'd hated Emma saying sorry, she had come to loathe the sight of Mary Margaret's big sad eyes regarding her almost as much.

They had bumped into each other in Granny's diner the day after Emma's departure. She had already endured Granny slamming her takeout coffee on the counter, Leroy accidentally on purpose stomping his boot on her foot and shoulder crunching her on the way past, and Ruby's glacial cold glare. But the moment the teacher's soft eyes slid knowingly up to hers, she knew the woman understood everything.

Regina felt so sick she had left her coffee untouched on the counter and stumbled outside.

_To hell with them all, anyway. Until they had walked a mile in her heels, they could all go to hell._

The teacher, mercifully, hadn't tried to follow.

At least not that time.

* * *

 

Time moves more slowly when you are actually aware of its passage. Even in Storybroooke, the mayor knew this to be paradoxically true. Regina had been getting her sleep, thanks to those tiny little pills. Henry had gone from not talking to her at all to grunting at her occasionally.

Most people had taken to avoiding her - either because they saw her as the one who had driven their adored sheriff away for no good reason, or because her mood had been as black as a demon's heart for months.

Regina didn't particularly care either way, as she settled into the diner and stared bleakly out at the main street at lunchtime. She ordered her food by lifting an index finger. Ruby knew what to get her and it suited them both not having to talk to each other at all.

The mayor found herself studying the cars. It was something she did automatically without even realising it most of the time. She was always able to pick yellow out of the slow-moving parade of vehicles.

_Yellow_.

Of course she looked for yellow.

She was also particularly adept at noticing red. On the pavements when small crowds walked by, she could spot a red jacket from any distance, as she sipped on her coffee and watched.

And watched.

"She isn't coming back, Regina,'' a voice said, far too close. She knew without turning who would be so impertinent as to raise the topic with her and invade her space like this. She felt the table shudder and the booth seat opposite her squeak as the unwelcome guest took up residence.

"But that's what you wanted. So it's good, right?''

Irritated, she turned back to Archie Hopper, not bothering to dignify the man's rambles with a response. She pursed her lips and glared.

"It's been three months, Regina.''

"I am well aware,'' she snapped.

He gave a small smile, as if expecting that. "Time enough, perhaps, that you might want to talk about it. Why you made her leave right then? Why you want her back.''

"What on earth makes you think I want her back? After all I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make her leave when she first arrived.''

Archie's eyebrows lifted.

"Well that's new,'' he mused.

"What?'' she said with a snarl, batting the salt shaker away with the back of her fingers.

"Invoking Emma's arrival again. Not her more recent, er, crimes.''

"Those go without saying,'' Regina muttered and turned to the window again. Her eyes lit up at a yellow VW slowly snaking its way up the main thoroughfare. She hissed in a breath for a moment before she realised.

It wasn't her. It would _never_ be her.

"It's not her,'' Archie said as if reading her mind, his eyes having followed hers.

"I know she's not coming back,'' Regina growled, picking up the salt shaker and slamming it back on the counter.

The diner fell quiet from the sharp noise. Heads craned and stared and Regina bared her teeth at them. They quickly found other things to look at.

"Really,'' she hissed directing icy eyes at the doctor. "I _know_. Don't you think I didn't hear her begging on my doorstep to stay? You think I don't know that refusing her then means she'll never come back?''

Archie looked at her kindly. "So you DO want her to come back?''

"Don't be ridiculous! I just got rid of her.''

She had meant it to be wry and flippant. It came out bitter and mean. Out of the corner of her eye, judging by the outraged glance Ruby had tossed her way, she also realised it came out far too loud.

She rose and turned to the waitress. "I am suddenly not feeling hungry today. Please cancel my order.''

Her eyes fell back to the man observing her from the booth. "You're wasting your time here, Doctor. But you knew that already.''

She gave him a thin smile and leaned forward until her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. "Remember, dear, I'm broken. Don't trouble yourself. And, for the record, I don't miss her in the least.''

Hopper lifted his eyebrows. "And I'll believe that, Madame Mayor, when you stop looking for yellow.''

The door to the diner slammed shut with an angry clang of the bell.


	23. PLAN A

BOSTON - PRESENT DAY

Emma stared at the woman seated regally opposite her. She smelled of achingly familiar perfume - some sort of apple-based scent fused with Regina's own potent brand of sexuality that never failed to make her heart beat faster, even after all this time.

"Regina," she croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. This time it came out like a growl. "Regina. Why are you here."

It wasn't a question.

The other woman smiled brightly again, perfect rows of pearly white teeth gleaming.

"Right down to business, Sheriff? Or shall I call you 'The Bounty Hunter' now?" she said with exaggerated emphasis. "I always liked that about you. So ... straightforward."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Really? You came here to play games? I don't have time right now. So maybe you'd like to make an appointment with my secretary. I think I am free in about six to eight weeks. If you're lucky."

The blonde smiled faintly. It was not her most pleasant smile and it secretly pleased her to see Regina momentarily falter. She looked the brunette directly in the eye. "Or did you just expect I'd fall for your charms and play along with whatever this is? Panting like a little puppy, excited just to bound around your feet? Please tell me that wasn't your Plan A?''

Regina pursed her lips. "Well you'll never know what my Plan A is if you don't come out with me. Dinner? Tonight? And I have also found a most interesting-sounding place in your esteemed city's tourist guide. For later."

Regina pulled a booklet out of her exquisitely tailored pocket. The cover was lurid pink and had a garish rainbow emblazoned in one corner. Emma squinted and tilted her head and could just make out the name. She gaped. Even seeing this thing in Regina's hands seemed absurdly out of place.

"Boston's Hottest Pink Nightspots? Uh, what now?'' she blurted.

"Well it seemed apt if we are to go dancing later.''

"We are?'' Emma drawled sceptically, even as her mind raced ahead, far too gleefully picturing that scenario. She forcibly shook the image from her head.

"Most definitely, Miss Swan. Tell me, have you ever been to this Pussy in Boots? It sounds quite ... intriguing. 'Boston's oldest upmarket night spot for ladies','' Regina read thoughtfully, her index finger sliding down the page. "It has a delightful sounding piano bar. Miss Understood will be tickling her ivories apparently."

"What the hell are you doing?'' Emma asked in irritation, now completely lost. "Why would you want us to go there? To a... Boston ladies club?''

"Well are we both not in Boston? And both ladies? One of us more than the other, granted, but what can you do?'' Regina shrugged and gave a smirk as she ran her eye across over Emma's form.

"But if that isn't to your taste, there is also something here about ladies who like their leather. Now what do you suppose that is all about?'' Regina smirked openly now, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Enough,'' Emma said, slapping the desk, snapping Regina's head out of the book with a start. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing or what twisted little schemes you've dreamed up but I have had a lot of time to think. And ... and get over... what happened. Back there. And get my life back together and I am certainly not just going to risk all this or my feel... I... look, Regina, I am seeing someone." She screeched to a halt, panicked.

Regina lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"Shania,'' she blurted out as an afterthought.

"Really dear?" Regina asked, completely underwhelmed. "Shania, is it? And what does this wondrous Shania even do? Sounds like a country singer,'' she sniffed.

"She's a lawyer. Down the hall.'' Emma shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Regina's eyes flashed in amusement. "Is that so? Would you believe me if I said I have no interest in your social life and was here purely for Henry?''

"No," Emma scowled. "Not unless our 11-year-old has taken a sudden interest in his mothers hitting Boston's lesbian hot spots. Why, Regina? Just tell me - why the hell are you here?''

Regina ignored the question and leaned forward conspiratorially. "We both know you're not seeing that country-singing lawyer. Don't we, dear?''

"She doesn't sing country.''

"How would you know? You've only been on one date with her,'' Regina responded with a faint smile. She tilted her head as if recalling a detail. "Flirting with the waitress I believe you said? My, my. Most unbecoming. What a dreadful cad,'' she mocked. "You forget I have excellent hearing," she added at Emma's dumbfounded expression.

The blonde sighed and crossed her arms, annoyed at being caught out so easily. "Fine. But it doesn't mean you get a free pass to ... whatever the hell is it you're up to.''

"Dinner and dancing. The price you pay to find out.''

"I'm busy tonight.''

"Your delightful little secretary seems to think otherwise. So who am I to believe? Want to check your schedule again?''

"Damned stool pigeon,'' Emma muttered, shooting the door to her outer office a dark glare.

"Shall we say eight? I will pick you up at your place.''

"How do you even know where I live?''

"Really, Miss Swan," Regina tsked pleasantly. "I did manage to find where you worked, too. Besides, this is me we're talking about.''

There was something so smug about her, sitting there. Looking like she had won. Again. In a flash Emma felt her blood boil. Before she could stop herself she felt the pain erupt.

"Why would I want to ever agree to this? You broke my goddamned heart!'' she snarled.

There was a lengthy pause as both women stared at each other, Emma's chest rising and falling angrily. Her outrage was written all over her features.

"I know,'' Regina finally said softly. "I do," she added regretfully.

And for the first time genuine shame and contrition crossed her face. "Believe me when I say, that was never my intention.''

Emma digested that as she eyed the other woman. Regina seemed different. Less wary, more... What was the word? Also less cold.

Just more.

She thought back to Henry's pivotal email. And that did it. Before she could stop herself she realised she was slowly nodding.

"Eight o'clock,'' she finally agreed. Then she lowered her voice. "But if you mess with me again, by accident or design, I swear...''

Regina smiled brightly and Emma felt like she could hear the entire Hallelujah chorus. How did she manage that? Fill a room with her sheer force of personality like that?

"I cannot wait, my dear,'' the brunette husked, then rose elegantly, leaned forward, dropping a small kiss against Emma's cheek. And breezed out.

Emma sat rooted to the spot. Smelling the hint of apples and scent that was uniquely Regina. Still feeling that lightest brush of soft lips against her skin. Her heart was thundering away like a freight train.

_Shit. How did she do that?_

Mandy popped her head around the corner. "That was her, wasn't it? The original Emma happiness destroyer? The one whose name you won't say cos she stomped your heart into 'a million billion pieces'?'' She grinned cheekily to take the sting out.

"Yeah.'' Emma sighed wearily. "And it seems we're going to dinner. And dancing.''

Mandy smacked her chewing gum loudly to punctuate her amazement. "Shiiiiit! No kidding? Are you a glutton for punishment or what?''

Emma sucked in her bottom lip and considered that. Well hell. She really fucking must be.

"Something like that,'' she agreed mournfully.

"Still it's not all bad, right?'' Mandy continued. "She might stomp your heart into a million billion pieces but just imagine how freakin' fabulous she'll look doing it!" she said and chuckled at Emma's faux outraged growl. "Seriously, boss - that chick's smoking hot!''

Emma dropped her head into her hands. "Yeah," she groaned. "She really is.''

She heard Mandy's amused chuckle the whole way back out to her desk.


	24. GREEN IT IS

BOSTON - PRESENT DAY

"I can't do this. This is nuts. It's insane. And don't know why I ever agreed and..."

Emma sucked in a huge lungful of air, eyes darting around her bedroom, hands almost flapping before she seemed to catch herself and balled them into fists.

"OK, calm thoughts," Mandy cut in. "Now what'd we say before about calm thoughts? You are in a Japanese rock garden..."

Emma shot her a filthy look and the redhead chuckled. "Too much?"

She had received her boss's urgent text message half an hour ago and had rushed around to her apartment, half expecting to find her fearless bounty-hunter employer grappling with a gang of thugs. That's how bad it had sounded.

She should have guessed the alluring brunette visitor with the dangerous attitude, sexy scent and world's sharpest power suit would undo Emma Swan far more than any two-bit assholes.

Her only surprise was that the exotic woman with the smoky, watchful eyes hadn't pulled out some elegant Audrey Hepburn-esque cigarette holder and started husking lines from Lauren Bacall. As it was Mandy had found herself thoroughly charmed by the infamous Mayor Mills, as the secretary had been expertly pumped for information on her boss's movements and new life. It had taken her well over quarter of an hour before Mandy had even realised what the smooth woman was up to. And little usually got past her.

There was no doubt this woman was a thorough pro at everything she did. And, most likely, _everyone_ she did. She suspected few people said no to her, either. She did not envy Emma Swan trying to go up against one so clearly gifted in so many dark, seductive arts. Her boss was going to need a lot of help to get through tonight, of that she was sure. She wished she could do more to help. She turned her attention to the task at hand.

They were in the blonde's bedroom. Dresses of every hue were strewn across the bed, chosen then discarded, then chosen again. It was like a rainbow had exploded in her room. The blonde was standing helplessly, sucking anxiously on her bottom lip - never a good sign, the redhead noted - and looking terrified.

Mandy had never ever seen this particular expression on the fearless woman's face before.

"OK, boss," she said soothingly, latching onto both Emma's hands and holding them, just to stop them waving wildly again. "Let's break it down shall we? _Why_ are you going on this date?"

"It's NOT a date," Emma said, snapping her eyes to hers.

"OK," she tried again, more gently, "So why are you going out with the life-ruining she-devil who broke your heart?"

"Uh..."

She waited. Green eyes darted about the room, then down to her feet. Emma's shoulders finally slumped in defeat.

"I don't know," she admitted in an ashamed, halting whisper. "I ... she just does this _thing_ , where she asks in a certain way and looks at me in a certain way and I just ... I say yes. Oh shit. I..."

"Emma," Mandy said quietly, "Do you even want to go out with her? I mean if not, I can just answer the door at eight and send her on her way. If you like I'll even put my stinkiest scent on and bearhug her till her eyes pop."

Emma stopped freaking out for a moment and gaped at her in confusion. "Regina would HATE someone just randomly hugging her," she said in horror. "Like SERIOUSLY loathe it."

"Duh, that's the point!"

"Oh. _Right_ ," Emma grinned sheepishly. "You know Regina does have the worst death-stare glare when she hates something. It's kinda intense and a little bit sexy."

Her eyes glazed over and Mandy realised she was losing her boss's focus rapidly.

She snapped her fingers. "Focus, hon. So, what ARE we doing here? Getting rid of the psycho babe? Or going out with her for a hot night of dinner and dancing to rekindle things?"

"It's not a date," Emma protested, shaking her head. "I just want to know why she's here. That's it."

"OK, right, not a date," Mandy agreed. "So if that's the case, there's no reason to be alarmed then. Why don't you start thinking of it like one of your special ops thingies. You know, break it down - like, um, step one is scope out the target, step two is extract intel, step three is ditch her when intel is acquired. You can do that right? You do it every day."

Emma's eyes lit up. "Yeah," she said enthusiastically.

Then her face fell. "But this is kind of like no ordinary target. She's like ... ah, a Bond super villain or something."

Mandy patted her hand. "I know, boss, she's extra-specially tricky cos you love her."

Emma stared glumly at her for a moment. She didn't deny it.

"I hate that I can't forget her," the blonde eventually said in a low growl. "Especially after she kicked me out of her town. Didn't even explain why. Just ... GO! Like I was some stray dog. In a fucking text. I had to give up everything. I lost my son, my life, my job, my friends. EVERYTHING."

The hurt laced through the words as though it had happened yesterday. The redhead felt her heart break for her.

"I know," Mandy nodded. She'd heard this story more than once, especially on a Friday night at the dive at the end of the street. Five beers in and Emma Swan liked to talk ... when she wasn't crooning off-key to love songs playing in the background. "Let's face it, hon, she was a psycho bitch-face mole to you, right? Well, never forget I can still stinkbomb hug her anyway. Would you like me to? Show Regina Mills she can't control everything?"

Emma's lips twitched. "Tempting."

"Just say the word, and my pores and Mandy Louise Somerville's special blend No. 3 will do all the work. Now speaking of tempting ... you will remember your mission plan, 'Kay?"

"Uh... my _what_?"

Emma was now running her fingers distractedly through her outfit choices. She lifted up a red dress against herself, assessing. "There's a plan? Hey, you like this one?''

"There's always a plan. Yeah, that's nice. But try the green. Matches your eyes. Remember on every dat... um... mission, you always have to know what your end game is. And your end game is the saucy mayoral heart-breaker doesn't get to lay a single sexy finger on you, tonight, right? Or you'll lose focus. So hold the course. You're 'sposed to be mad at her."

Emma glared in outrage. "There's no 'supposed to be' about it. She does enrage me. Shit, Mandy, I am not completely whipped."

"Mmm, says the woman who sat glued to her chair for half an hour after Her Ladyship wafted out of our office today. Not sure you could even spell your own name right after that. Look I get she's mega hot..."

Emma sighed. "Is there a point to this?" She crossed her arms and glowered.

The secretary continued uncowed: "I just don't want you hurting again, OK? So sue me. Oh that one's _so_ nice. Try that."

Emma shook her head firmly. "Too revealing. She'll think I'm for sale.''

"She'll only think you're for sale if you act that way. Why not taunt her with what she can no longer have? Remind her what she threw away like last week's old newspaper? Let her look but not touch?''

Emma held a plunging green silky dress up to herself and stared in the mirror. The split up the back was barely legal.

She gave a small smile. "Look but don't touch?" She turned to Mandy and asked quietly: "What makes you so sure she wants to touch anyway?"

"Oh honey," Mandy purred, "I know because she's not blind. And that dress could probably turn me. Besides, anyone who would wait for you in your crappy, airless, hole of an office for two-and-a-half hours without a peep of complaint is definitely here for more than looking."

Emma smirked and gave a nod. "Green it is."


	25. IT'S NOT A DATE

Emma swallowed hard when she glanced at the clock. Mandy had bowed out a little while ago with a wicked grin and a swift hug, leaving the blonde to pace, fidget and fret. She wished she still had Regina's cell number, because she would have texted her a panicked bail-out message several times over by now.

The knock was sharp and authoritative. _Some things never change._ Emma picked up a small elegant green case with a gold link-chain strap, and headed for the door. She stared at the solid wood with chipped paint for a beat, swallowed again and then flung it open.

Her jaw dropped.

Regina Mills wore a tailored black suit. Underneath was a silky white button-up dress shirt, and a silk midnight black tie, knotted but roguishly hanging a little loose. Her hair was slicked back. She gave a half smile and leaned casually against the door frame, one hand sliding into her pocket. Her exotic cologne invaded Emma's senses and made her entire body thrum with approval. She wished she could scowl at her traitorous body and tell it to quit reacting like a teenage girl.

"Why Miss Swan," came a familiar, amused drawl, "Don't you look stunning."

Regina's eyes flickered over her body, following the green swish of fabric and lengthy flash of leg as Emma straightened, and the insanely plunging cleavage. Brown eyes lingered a moment there before sliding back up to the blonde's slowly reddening face.

"Uh, thanks," Emma said, "You too. You look ..." Her hand waved up and down in front of Regina's stunning suit, "Like an actress from some old Hepburn movie or something."

"Are you calling me old, my dear?" Regina cocked an amused eyebrow. "Because I feel rather young tonight. And _daring_."

She smiled then, wide and genuine, perfect white teeth on display, and Emma's brain completely short fused. She was unable to think of a single thing to say.

"Not old," she finally gasped out after an eternity as she grimly looked down at her heels, away from those watching eyes. " _Never old_."

"Glad to hear it, my dear. Shall we?" She offered an arm to Emma like a perfect British gentleman and the blonde stared at it for a moment before sighing. She wrapped her fingers around the crook of the arm and mentally shook her head. She had already failed Mandy's only mission rule of not letting a single sexy finger of Regina's touch her.

She felt the mayor's warmth emanating from the jacket sleeve under her fingers. She realised the fabric was expensive and the suit probably personally made by some high-end tailor. She shouldn't have been surprised. The mayor always had impeccable taste in clothes.

Regina lead her down the stairs, and Emma got another whiff of her intoxicating scent. _Regina Mills was going to be the death of her. Of that she had no doubt._

* * *

 

The dinner had been superb. Emma had no words for half the food that had appeared in front of her - Regina had insisted on ordering "something special" for her. But she knew fine food when she tasted it, and the colourful little plates of French fare had been astonishing - flavours dancing across her tongue, forcing her to find new words for saying "shit that was good". All the while Regina offered her small, pleased smiles, and kept the courses coming with subtle nods to their waiter.

All evening they had talked but only tiptoed around the real issues. Regina had told Emma about what Henry was up to - not much more than their son had already shared with her in their emails. She had nodded as though it were news to her.

And Emma had told the mayor a little bit about her work, and in the process, she had discovered she was not nearly so hard to find as she imagined.

"I just made enquiries with the first Boston bail bondsman I could find as to whether he might know of any women doing his line of work," Regina explained, her eyes dancing merrily. "You are apparently known in your field as 'that hot blonde babe down on Fourth'. So don't blame me if you're too memorable for your own good." Regina had folded her linen serviette, placing it on the table and gave a smile.

"Really, dear, I found you in less than a week. Which means either I am particularly adept at your line of work, or bail bondsmen in Boston are a bunch of oversexed misogynistic individuals. Which do you believe is true?"

Emma couldn't hold back her grin. "Probably a bit of both," she said and then laughed. Regina watched her and an unreadable expression crossed her face.

"I've missed that," came a soft voice.

"Huh?'' Emma stopped laughing at the earnestness.

"Your laugh. Your smile. You looking happy. Well, _you_ , really, if you must know."

"Regina, I ... we... We... can't."

"No," Regina said rising, shooting her a small smile. "We're not having that conversation yet. Besides first you promised me I could take you dancing. And it would be a shame to waste that dress, don't you think?"

Emma swallowed as she identified the frankly appreciative way Regina was focusing on her curves again. She had to remind herself of who she was and what she had done to her. The memory of the tears shed. Of leaving a life she had grown to love. It washed over her and she stood suddenly.

"Fine," she said coldly. The tone, out of nowhere, brought up Regina's head sharply. Confusion flickered across the brunette's face but then it was gone, the frowns and creases ironed out as a mask of perfect politeness dropped into place. Her politician face. Emma remembered it well.

"Have I caused offense dear?'' she asked quietly, as Emma grabbed for her green handbag and shouldered it. It swung viciously from the force of her motion.

"Just remembering some things, Regina," Emma replied curtly. "It's good to remember. You know?"

She didn't wait for an answer and stalked away from the table, leaving Regina to sort out their bill and follow her. She felt eyes on her. Watching.

She used those minutes alone on the street to try and gather herself and calm the confusion of memories competing for space in her head. Regina Mills - in full seductive mode - was a hard woman to hate. But she was trying her best.

She sensed Regina before she saw her as the restaurant door opened then closed.

For a moment the silence was awkward. Already Emma missed the easy companionship she'd just been sharing with Regina, but she knew she was also right. One evening of small talk could never erase their stormy, messed up past.

"Emma," Regina said quietly, "We can never forget, it's true. But a person can make new memories."

The blonde stared at her. "Is that why you are here?"

" _Soon_ ," Regina gave a mysterious half smile. "First - dancing."

* * *

 

The club Regina had selected for them proved elegant and discreet, as sophisticated well-heeled female couples glided around a dance floor, and the pianist, the ludicrously named Miss Understood, was actually fairly accomplished at her ivory tickling.

Eyes watched them the moment they stepped in the club, and Emma knew that probably had a lot to do with the sheer sexuality and sensuality oozing from her date. Regina in a suit was a divine look and if Emma hadn't known who she was, she would have watched her enter with her jaw on the floor, too.

Regina's arm slid protectively around Emma's waist and she led her down to the sunken dance floor.

"Ready?" she husked, and without waiting for her response, slipped her into her arms.

Emma gasped at the flood of sensations that bolted through her body. She stopped counting after arousal, confusion and longing became her muddied emotional cocktail.

She could feel her heart thumping wildly as Regina sure-footedly led them around the floor accompanied by some aching French love song.

Mayor Mills was a sublime dancer. She'd kept that well hidden. Emma, fortunately, thanks to moonlighting as an exotic dancer a few years back to catch a perp, had some seriously impressive moves of her own that she hadn't unleashed in years. _No time like the present_.

She glimpsed Regina's impressed look as she identified Emma's talent was far above the ordinary and couldn't help the surge of pride.

They meshed superbly on the dance floor. Now a different French melody began to play - slower this time - and Regina gentled their pace, gathering Emma more tightly to her until their breasts were brushing. It would have been suffocating from anyone else but Emma felt her own resolve weaken, well aware her body was screaming it was exactly where it wanted to be. Where it had always wanted to be.

"What are you thinking?" the brunette asked. Eyes sought out green. Her expression was genuinely curious.

Emma forced herself not to blush and searched her mind for something neutral. "Why is French the theme for our evening?" she finally responded, a little taken aback when Regina's soft cheek slid daringly against her own. They were so close their breaths were mingling. It was profoundly erotic.

"No reason," her dance partner husked. "I thought you might like the cuisine. And the music at this club was not specified in that guide book."

Emma processed that, feeling the warmth of Regina's fingers now slide across the small of her back, where her dress scooped down low, their bare skin touching for the first time.

"I really do love this dress," Regina whispered into the shell of her ear. "I never would have picked you for a daring diva look."

"And I wouldn't have thought you'd go all Marlene Dietrich to give Boston's lesbians a thrill. But here you are. And no one in this club can tear their eyes off you."

A low rich laugh rumbled in Regina's chest and Emma felt it as though it were in her own.

"Oh, my dear, don't you know? It's you they're all looking at. I am getting the dagger looks. They wish they were me. They are desperately jealous. They all want to go home with you tonight."

Emma started and flicked her eyes around the room. _OK, Regina might have been half right._ Her date was getting some baleful stares amid the appreciative ones. She paused.

Wait, this wasn't a date.

Then Regina's final words registered. She arched back in the brunette's arms. " _This_ is what you think? That I am going home with you tonight?'' Her eyebrow arched up accusingly. At Regina's rapidly collapsing expression, Emma took another step back and held her hands up. "You have rocks in your head if you think I am that easy to manipulate."

"Emma, wait. No," Regina said sharply. "Please." Her tone instantly became soft. "Come and sit down. That's not what I thought. Please."

She looked at her with such sincerity Emma sighed and nodded sharply, unable to wipe the distrustful expression from her face.

They found a table in a dark corner, lit only by a small candle burning in a red glass jar. Emma ran her finger up the outside of it, mesmerised by the flame. And the woman who sat on the other side of it.

Regina's skin seemed to glow a burnished orange under the flickering light. Her eyes were huge, dark, hypnotising.

"I came for a couple of reasons," Regina began softly, eyes flicking up to Emma's then glancing down at her twisting hands. "I have been getting help for my ... for everything. I have. And I see clearly now, where my choices led me. Where they led you. That day - when I didn't open the door. Didn't... I let you leave without explaining. And I cannot tell you how sorry I am. It was a mistake. One of many. Too many."

She flicked a gaze up at the blonde, but Emma stared back, giving nothing away. Inside, though, she felt her heart hammer. _Regina had just apologised._ Something she thought Hell would freeze over before she'd ever hear.

Regina swallowed and glanced down at the table's flickering flame. Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "I came because I wanted to ask you something."

There was a pause and if the blonde didn't know any better she would say the mayor was suddenly anxious.

"What?" Emma said, her mouth so dry she had to repeat the question. "What do you want to ask?"

"Well that question ... in a minute. First there's something else."

Regina reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an ivory-coloured envelope and slid it across the table. She looked up and locked brown eyes with green.

"I was really hoping you'd come to the wedding."


	26. UNDERSTANDING

**STORYBROOKE - PAST**

Regina glared at the piece of paper in her hand with Dr Hopper's distinctive looping scrawl as if it held all the answers. It held nothing but an address. Her nose twitched from straw or pollen or whatever the hell Mother Nature saw fit to torture her with.

"Why are we here, Mom?'' a petulant voice from below her demanded.

A good question, the mayor thought, though she did not reply immediately. A bear of a man was making his way towards them, with a big ambling gait, so Regina shoved the paper in her pocket and plastered on a welcoming smile.

It didn't reach her eyes.

"We're here because Dr Hopper thought you might enjoy it,'' she said in a low voice to Henry, eyeing the large shadow coming up to them. "You said you wanted to learn to ride. Now here we are. I'd have thought you'd be grateful."

"I was six when I said that," came the predictable retort. It was like a verbal scowl. Regina sighed. Her eyes tightened as she bit back her first response.

They were here because Hopper had told her their relationship couldn't continue the way it was. And Henry needed something to bond over with his mother.

"You like horses, don't you?" the doctor had asked her reasonably when she had reeled off her issues with her non-communicative son's behavior. "I am fairly certain you told me that once. Well here's the perfect opportunity to help him relax a little around you," Dr Hopper had added, hunting distractedly for a pen. "Matt even says he'll do it for free."

"Why?" she had demanded, incredulously. Few people in Storybrooke liked her enough to do anything for her. Not anymore. All she felt all day, every day, were their hard, judging eyes, assessing her for signs she actually had a heart. Hateful people. If only they knew WHY she'd driven their beloved sheriff out of town.

But they didn't matter. She was gone. What was done was done. She told herself that every morning when she stared into the mirror, trying to squeeze the drug-induced sleep out of her eyes. Eyes, if she was being truthful, always looked dark now. Tired. Sad. No sparkle, no enthusiasm.

But she had little that interested her now. She had been ignoring the overtures of Kathryn for coffees - no longer willing to hear her silly little sessions about her pseudo husband, and her kind, far, far too kind, entreaties imploring her: "But enough about me, how are you Regina? _Really?_ '' Often these moments involved some hideous hand pat as though she were a weak traumatised child. And Kathryn didn't even know what had happened.

She particularly never stopped when she saw Mary Margaret, and often actively crossed the street in case the teacher was seized by one of her maddening urges to "process'' Emma's leaving with her. Huge, emotive eyes would pin her like she understood. She would say she was sorry but it was how she said it. She knew. All of it. It was vulgar. Too much compassion was just ... she shook her head in irritation. It was not what she needed, not now, not when she needed to be strong to get through this.

Emma was gone. That was what she had requested. And that was just how things were.

Only one person mattered now. And that was why she had gone to the psychiatrist's office. To see the annoying little cricket with his appalling opinions and knowing gazes. It made her teeth itch.

Hopper had been saying something. She had blinked and tried to focus. Oh right. _Some stranger she'd never heard of wanted to give Henry free riding lessons._ If that didn't sound suspicious for fifty different reasons, nothing did. She had eyed him sideways, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Matt is very appreciative and thankful to you," Dr Hopper had explained, finally digging up a pen and scribbling out an address.

"Well, to be precise, thankful of the mayor's office funding his charity program all these years."

Regina had blinked at that. She couldn't even remember such a program ever being approved involving stables.

She'd thought back. It was probably wrapped up in the bundle of charities she had set up when she'd first arrived in Storybrooke - upon learning leading politicians were expected to champion community endeavours. Something about keeping the citizens thinking she had their interests at heart, or something suitably electable like that. She hadn't even thought about that in years. Clearly the funding had simply kept on going through to the various charities with a tick from some City Hall bureaucrat or other, uncontested by anyone.

She had nodded to Hopper as if she knew all about the stables and glanced at the address. It was out on in the middle of nowhere. Of course it was.

The infamous Matt was now up close and she could see his wide face and open smile, assessing them both. For some reason, the way he looked at her annoyed her immensely. As if he knew who she really was under the confident mask of indifference she carefully projected. The impertinence. She was glad of her large, dark Prada sunglasses hiding her frown.

Henry, on the other hand, had responded to the man's open smile with a quick toothy grin, which irritated her even further.

_When had her son come to despise her so much that even a random stranger elicited more emotion from him than she did? Well, positive emotion at least._

She knew the answer to that, of course, but ignored it, squelching down her list of grievances for now.

"Madame Mayor," the broad-shouldered man said easily and offered his enormous, calloused hand out to her. She flicked her eyes over his broad flannel-shirted chest, well-worn jeans and scuffed boots. Nothing on him was for show. With some reluctance she shook his hand, grateful when the gorilla of a man didn't vibrate her off the ground.

She nodded once.

"So did Archie explain what all it is I do out here?" the gruff voice asked.

"Riding lessons?'' Regina replied automatically but suddenly feeling less certain. She hadn't actually asked Archie. Hang on, why was the Mayor's office paying for people to learn to ride? That made no sens...

"Hah," he said with a grin. "Not quite. Yes - but not quite. One of the things I do is help Storybrooke's troubled youth. You take a messed up kid, maybe one who's run away from home, or from a real bad abusive situation, and you help them bond with a horse, and learn how to take care of it and then learn to ride, and it can do wonders..."

Regina suddenly ground her molars together, seeing a flash of red rising.

"Come on Henry," Regina said sharply, turning away. "You've got your wish, we're leaving."

She placed the flat of her hand on her son's shoulder and propelled him around and away from the man whose mouth had just dropped open in surprise. "Whoa, there,'' he called out. "What in the hell just happened?''

"Henry go wait by the car." Regina was almost trembling with fury.

"But Mom - I want to see the horses!"

"NOW, HENRY."

She waited until Henry was halfway there before she whipped around to face the man.

"How dare you?!" she hissed. "I don't know what Hopper told you but my son is certainly NOT from a 'messed up' home; he does not have a 'real bad abusive situation' as you call it and he doesn't need some kind of soothing animal therapy because he is coping with having an abusive parent in his life."

"Well now, I never said he did," Matt said, ramming his enormous fists into his jean pockets and tilting his large head back. "I was explaining what my day job is. That's about other kids. Court makes an order, see, sending them here. Sheriff drops them off for a stay, like a week or a month or so. Well our sheriff used to do that that until she ... you know." He coughed and looked at her uncomfortably. "Well, uh, so then I help them and get their lives sorted a bit more. Teach them to have calm and patience and sometimes they even learn to love. Love between a person and animal is pure - it's not conditional, see." He shrugged. "But I never said that was what young Mister Henry was here for."

Regina felt her jaw working, trying to maintain the anger. Finally she sighed. She glanced at the slumped form of the boy leaning sulkily against the car in the distance and then turned back to the stables owner.

"I misunderstood," she ground out with effort.

Matt eyed her closely as if debating what to do with her non-apology. Finally he shrugged his enormous shoulders and gazed off in the distance.

"Awright then, first one's free," he said genially. He then pinned a hard look on her. "But next time we'll have to have a discussion bout that temper of yours, Madame Mayor."

Regina's eyes bulged and her mouth snapped open.

He put up his hand to stop her. His eyes had lost their amusement, and she could well see a man who could put a juvenile delinquent in his place with one quelling look.

"I meant from the point of view of my animals. Horses sense tension, y'see. They plain and simple don't like us humans all worked up. Gets them anxious and twitchy as hell. And if you're going to be flying off the handle at every little thing around them, then maybe we should shake hands right now and go about our separate ways."

He paused a beat and then added thoughtfully, "But then that'd be a real shame for young Mister Henry over there."

Matt folded his arms, muscles bulging from under his flannel, and waited as Regina weighed up her options.

Regina sighed and thought furiously. She did not know how much longer she could endure Henry's attitude. The sullen looks and hateful stares. If he spoke a single sentence to her, it would be a miracle. And today he had already spoken twice. It was progress. And he'd asked her for something. That had been awhile, too.

"My son would like to see the horses," Regina said through gritted teeth, forcing herself to reign in her emotions. "Perhaps we should start there?"

"Now that sounds like a sweet idea," Matt said neutrally. "I understand you are a horsewoman? So you can help him learn when I am busy with other students."

"Wait, we don't get private lessons?" Regina asked, not intending it to come out as harshly as it did. But her nerves were frazzled.

"I am a busy man," Matt replied, "There is only one of me. And I have some kids who need me a whole helluva lot more than your boy. The stories they come to me with..." He faded out and his eyes squinted. "There will be times when you and Henry will have to do your own lessons."

"But I..."

"No," Matt said firmly. "This ain't a negotiation. Besides, I think you two could use some practice getting along, don't ya think?"

Regina's eyes narrowed warningly, ready to cut him to the quick, but Matt turned away, calling over his shoulder: "Follow me." He threw his voice louder, towards the car. "You, too, young Henry."

She watched from the corner of her eye as her son lost his listless pose and suddenly bounded to his feet and scampered towards them.

Well, that was new. Just for a moment, when a smile spread across his face, she thought she could see Emma in it and it brought her up short. She quickly hid the dismay and rush of sadness but not before Matt had eyed her sideways and caught the look. She saw an unmistakable expression before he smoothed it out and he glanced away again. Understanding. What exactly he thought he understood she couldn't be sure, but the look was enough. Her dark mood returned with a vengeance and she viciously kicked a clump of dirt with her boot.

She had never despised the town of Storybrooke and its equally cloying people more than at this moment. Her hands formed furious fists as she marched onwards.

_How in the hell was any of THIS her happy ending?_


	27. DIFFERENT

**STORYBROOKE PAST**

"So, that's why I'm leaving David."

Kathryn came to an abrupt halt and looked at Regina expectantly. The mayor, startled, blinked quickly and tried to focus. She had been trying to care, trying to pay attention to the end of this story about a monumentally fake marriage for two fake characters living fake lives, but frankly it was getting difficult.

She knew her old self might have urged them to give it one last go for the sake of ... God, knows what, but she'd have thought of something. And she would have been convincing, too.

But her heart was no longer in it. She looked at her lunch companion and wondered how she'd finally been roped into this meeting.

Kathryn must have caught her on a weak day, still buzzing after Henry had spoken more than three words to her. All about horses, sure, but it had lifted her spirits briefly. Until he remembered he hated her and clammed up and went back to pushing his eggs around his breakfast plate sullenly.

"You have to do what you think is best, Kathryn," Regina found herself saying, even as a part of herself began screaming at the back of her brain. She ignored that incredulous voice. She was getting good at ignoring a lot of things lately. Life. Purpose. Emotions. Especially emotions. They were simply surplus to requirements.

"And you know in your heart what is right and what is working," Regina concluded unconvincingly. _Hadn't she heard that line in some movie once? The all-purpose appropriate saying to one's "BFF" declaring a major life change?_

Regina saw the flash of gratefulness wash the other woman's face and felt a little ill. She turned to gaze out the window of Granny's diner, and wondered briefly what her companion would say if she knew her true love was right now unpacking boxes in the local supermarket. And that Regina had been the one who had saddled her with some idiot husband too cowardly to end a clearly failing marriage himself.

"You're a good friend, Regina," Kathryn was saying and Regina faced her again with an inward sigh. Here it comes.

"But enough about me, tell me about you. I hear you and Henry have been out at White Rocks Stables lately. That's lovely."

"Word travels fast," Regina said dryly lifting her coffee to her lips. "Who told you?"

"David," she replied. "He heard from Henry's teacher. M-Mary Margaret."

There was a long silence as that poisoned name fell between them. A world of charged conversations lay unspoken next to the salt and pepper shakers and half-empty bottle of Tabasco sauce.

"I ... know they're still having an affair." Kathryn broke the silence. "If they ever stopped," she laughed a little shrilly and shook her head. "And I'm ... I'm, in a weird way, glad for him. Maybe they can be happy together where he and I can't."

Regina found herself conflicted. She knew she should probably be stopping this ... what? _Endorsement of an affair?_ But she found only hollowness when she tried to care. It no longer mattered. The curse. Life. Any of it. She couldn't remember a time in her past when she hadn't fought for something. And now, here she was. Just giving up.

Regina said nothing.

"You're different."

The statement snapped her head up challengingly. " _Excuse me?_ "

"Whoa, relax. I just mean - there was a time you'd have urged me to stick with David through thick and thin. And then you'd be running down Mary Margaret with some creative insults in a loyal display of solidarity with me." Kathryn gave a small smirk.

"Sorry, dear. Would you _like_ me to insult her? I assure you it will be no trouble." She gave a matching smirk.

Kathryn reached over and patted her hand - this time without the condescension. And for the first time Regina almost appreciated the sentiment. Almost.

"No, it's fine. I can mentally fill in the gaps myself with all the slights I am sure you would say if you were in the mood."

Regina gave a small chuckle. "Well thank you. That would save us time."

Kathryn grinned. "I mean it, though. You've changed."

The brunette lifted her eyebrows in question.

"You're not as driven as you used to be. I am a little ... undecided ... whether that's good or bad."

Regina snorted. "Having nothing to live for is definitely 'bad', my dear." She froze and felt a sharp bolt of panic. She certainly had not meant to say that out loud. She quickly slammed down her mask. She smiled lazily as if she had been joking.

Kathryn regarded her with concern and hesitated. "You really do feel that way, don't you?"

Regina shook her head, forced her smile ever wider and spread her hands. "Of course not. I have Henry. He is my life."

She uttered the words, by rote, but even so her mind drifted, and another woman's face came into view. A path not taken. She firmed her jaw and willed the image away. Why does that woman haunt me even now?

"Yes, you have Henry," Kathryn confirmed. "And he will come back to you soon, I am sure."

Regina put down her coffee abruptly. She forced herself not to sneer, but her anger was near the surface these days. Happy endings or anything resembling them were definitely thin on the ground. It was hard not to notice.

"I doubt that. He has never forgiven me for Emma ... Miss Swan ... leaving town."

A nod. "He will. Have faith."

Regina screwed up her paper serviette with more force than was necessary. "Perhaps. At least he talks to me about horses now. It's a step up on the silence."

Kathryn eyed her with an expression of complete sympathy and Regina had to shut her eyes. God how she hated that look. She swore inwardly for saying too much. She would have no secrets left with anyone in town at this rate.

"And what of you?" Kathryn asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you go riding with him?"

"Why would I do that? The purpose is for Henry to learn to ride. I already know how."

"Regina," Kathryn sighed softly, "I thought the purpose was for you and Henry to bond over something you both love. Or have you forgotten? So next lesson, get up on a horse right beside him. And show him the world that you love."

"The world that I love," Regina repeated incredulously, her eyes sliding assessingly around the cafe. She took in Granny bustling about, a small frown on her face as she attempted to read an order without her glasses on. She was mundanity personified. Ruby squeezed past her holding a plate of toasted cheese sandwiches, faintly burned. Someone had clearly tried to scrape a layer of charcoal off instead of redo the sandwiches. How pedestrian. Their eyes locked for a second and the waitress glared darkly and kept moving.

Patrons seated around the diner, backs to her, were all people who actively disliked her. Her head twisted to the right and she looked outside. Cars slowly making their way up main street. _None yellow_ , her brain cheerfully supplied before she could stop it. An old lady with a hat three decades out of date shuffled by. A man with an umbrella and a spotted dog was strolling. Like some absurd caricature. Everything felt two-dimensional. Faded, like an old photo on a wall. Even people's reactions towards her of late all felt like they were hammering away at her from miles away. Through frosted glass. Was anything real?

_What an absurd question. Of course not._

"This is not the world I love," Regina growled harshly and pinned Kathryn with a cold look. "None of it."

Kathryn leaned back on her chair thoughtfully. "Fine. Then make it one you do love."

"If only it were that simple."

"It is," Kathryn said with conviction. "It's what I am doing. Leaving David. Having a life."

"Not really the same thing, dear, but thank you for your concern."

"Regina, it is. All I am saying is tomorrow, get back in the saddle in every sense. With your son. And you will find a new world from up there."

Regina shook her head dismissively. "Not likely. And I do not ride anymore."

"Why not?"

"Bad memories," Regina shook her head again, more vigorously this time. "Stables are not a good mix with me."

"Look, Regina, I get it. I know people can't forget. But why not make some new memories? What have you got to lose?"

She had no answer to that. The mayor rose. "Thank you for inviting to me lunch, dear. I trust your relationship will work out however you desire. But I really must get back to the office. A mayor's work is never done."

"Think about what I said." Kathryn was not easily distracted. Her eyes held an intensity Regina had never seen before.

The brunette turned away with a nod and considered the sentence. Make new memories? It was like some absurd saccharine Hallmark card drivel. Ridiculous.

But she could not stop thinking of the words as she opened the door to Granny's diner. She squinted as she stepped out into the light.


	28. POINT OF RETURN

Regina slid her hand up the mare’s muscled brown neck, fingers scritching against coarse brown hair.

“So you must be Peppermint,” she spoke softly into the animal’s ear. “I’m Regina. It’s good to meet you.”

“Mom, come on, I wanna go,” Henry whined from the other side of the stable. She glanced up to see her fidgety son on a pony which seemed as impatient to get moving as he was.

She frowned. Her son’s behavior had barely changed in the three weeks they had been coming to the ranch. He actually spoke to her now, it was true. But not politely. And this was no exception.

Before she could make her objections a masculine voice cut in.

“Now hold on there, Mister Henry, you remember your first time meeting Starfire? You had to git to know each other first, introduce yerself properly. Now your mother’s just saying hello to Peppermint there for the first time, and I think it’s only right yer patient and polite about it.”

His tone brooked no argument and Regina swore she saw a tinge of embarrassed red colouring her son’s ears. Matt’s opinion clearly mattered more than hers did. _So what else was new?_

She shot a grateful look over to the stable owner and gave her mare a final pat before edging over to its left side. She slid her boot into the shiny stirrup, effortlessly pulling herself up into the saddle, with an ease borne of a lifetime of practise. Or, in her case, practise from a lifetime ago.

Peppermint shifted under her, adjusting to the new weight and foreign rider, and she patted her, murmuring reassurances.

She felt two sets of eyes watching her and felt oddly self-conscious. She didn’t meet their curious gazes and instead glanced around for a moment, trying to readjust to being so high up, her fingers automatically readjusting the reins. The feel of the leather … It felt achingly familiar.

An old memory washed over her. Another time. Another riding companion. Brown eyes watching her, stroking her horse’s mane as he whispered to her. She swallowed anxiously. The emotion must have shown on her face because she sensed the burly flannel-shirted man beside her abruptly clear his throat and stride off and mutter something to Henry. She looked over to him in confusion.

Moments later Starfire and Henry were plodding off towards a beginner’s trail, and Matt was turning back to her.

“Hey now, jes… take your time there, Madame Mayor. It can be an adjustment after a few years out of the saddle. But it will come back to you. No need to be nervous.”

Regina tightened her grip on the reins, slightly irritated at being treated like a terrified beginner, but also unsettled he had read her so accurately. Still, the man had his uses. Trying to adjust while under the impatient glare of Henry wasn’t what she needed right now. She took about ten minutes to steady herself and her thoughts. She felt a calm wash over her. Matt picked up on it immediately.

“Why don’t ya try walking on for a bit?” he asked. “You kin catch up with Henry. He’s taking the northern trail. He won’t be too far off.”

Regina nodded tersely, and without thinking, clicked her mouth automatically while gently applying pressure to Peppermint with her heels. Suddenly she was moving and the sensation was so absurdly familiar the mayor wasn’t sure how to react. Instincts took over and she expertly manouvered the animal past Matt.

“Oh ‘scuse me, I have a visitor,” he called over to her. “I’ll catch you both later. Just stick to the trail. It’s real easy.”

Regina nodded and found herself already adapting to the commanding gait of her horse, powerful equine legs now picking up their pace, clearly itching to be underway. She turned to offer a polite thanks only to catch sight of Matt’s visitor.

Regina squinted, taking in the scarf and the solicitous posture that she knew so well now and put her teeth on edge. There was no mistake. She could see Archie Hopper locked in earnest conversation with Matt and they both appeared to be looking her way. She gritted her teeth. She loathed being talked about at the best of times, and if the probing little bug was revealing too much... Dark thoughts skittered through her mind.

She shot them both a filthy look, clicked her mouth again and dug her heels in.

Peppermint launched instantly forward and Regina felt a shock run through her as they surged ahead.

“Regina?!” she heard Archie call out worriedly.

“Madame Mayor!” Matt bellowed at the same time.

She ignored them both and concentrated. She could feel her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Sweat slicked up her hands. It took only a few moments before she caught onto Peppermint’s rhythm and began matching it with her own. Her seat steadied, her head and shoulders eased back and she relaxed her white-knuckled grip on the leather.

Then she felt it. What she had felt as a teenager. Why she loved to ride. Freedom. Far from the spidery fingers of her mother’s spells. Far from her father’s ashamed glances at his boots whenever he didn’t intervene in Cora’s latest abuse. Away. Far away.

She felt alive.

Matt and Hopper were little smudges behind her. The wind whipped across her face and she realised just how much she missed this.

She couldn’t stop a sudden burble of laughter that fell from her lips or the smile that split them wide. It felt… _incredible_.

“Hyah,” she cried out and urged Peppermint even faster. In moments Henry was looming up ahead on the trail and with some regret she finally eased back on the reins, bringing the horse back to a trot to match her son’s.

“Having fun, dear?” she asked as she drew level. She knew she must look a sight, hair flying under her black riding hat, cheeks flushed, smiling like a fool. She quickly wiped the grin off her face.

Her son stared at her for a long moment. “Sure,” he shrugged. “I can see you are.”

Regina considered that from all angles for signs of an undefused grenade. _Had he said it resentfully?_ Finally deciding she didn’t care if that was some veiled insult, she simply nodded. “Yes, I really am.”

Henry stared then, as though the truth was the last thing he had expected. And just for a moment, he seemed to forget he didn’t want her enjoying herself and a grin spread across his face.

He looked down at his white and black pony and back at his mother. “Can we canter now?” he asked hopefully.

“Henry,” Regina began incredulously, “You don’t even know how.”

“I know that. So teach me!” He looked at her imploringly and this time Regina forgot there was any tension between them. The years, the divide, everything else melted away. Her smile widened.

“Of course,” she found herself saying. “I will. But you can’t learn everything in one day.”

“Duh, Mom,” Henry said with a teasing grin.

Regina smothered a chuckle, which Henry joined in on. She then realised she couldn’t think of a reason to hide it, so she didn’t. After a few moments the laughter died and they looked at each other a little shyly.

“I’ve missed this,” Regina finally said, ducking her head as they trotted beneath a stand of trees.

Henry eyed her sideways. “You know we didn’t laugh much before,” he said quietly.

“I know. And that was my mistake. I think maybe I was too … tightly wound up about doing everything right for you as a parent. I didn’t want to make any mistakes. But I never stopped to think what that was like for you.”

Henry’s mouth dropped open.

“What?” Regina asked, puzzled.

“You never talked to me like that either.”

“Like what?”

“Like a… a grown-up. Like I can handle the truth.”

Regina exhaled ruefully. “I always wanted to protect you. And I would like to fix some of my mistakes if you will give me a chance. Do you really want us to be at odds like this forever?”

“I…” Henry bit his lip and shook his head. “I’m really mad with you.”

“I know.”

“If I say yes and forgive you it just lets you off the hook for everything. For driving away Emma.”

A silence fell between them. Finally Regina sighed.

“Well if it helps I believe I … I do feel badly that she’s gone.”

Henry’s head snapped up and he stared at her long and hard. “You’re lying,” he growled.

“I am not,” Regina snapped back.

His bottom lip pushed out. “You wanted her gone, and now she is. Do you think I am stupid?”

“Never. But it’s complicated.”

“That’s what adults always say to avoid telling the truth. I am not a little kid. If you want me to believe you then you’ll tell me what happened. No one will. I’ve asked Dr Hopper and Miss Blanchard and Ruby and Emma. And no one will.”

“I can’t Henry,” Regina shook her head, voice cracking. “It’s … a lot of really awful adult stuff happened between us and I can’t tell you.”

Henry glared back at her, outraged. “Can’t or won’t?”

Regina hissed in a breath. “Both if you must know. And if you knew you wouldn’t thank me for having that knowledge in your head. Some things are too awful. I personally wish I could unsee what happened to me.”

Henry looked at her in confusion. “B-but that means you blame Emma. That she did something.”

“Did you really think Emma Swan would leave town of her own accord for absolutely no reason just because I asked? Because that worked out _so_ well for me when she first arrived,” Regina snapped.

That confounded him and she could see the wheels turning.

“B-but she’s the good guy. So she must have …” He sounded less certain now.

Regina forced herself not to bite. _The good guy. Of course Emma Fucking Swan could do no wrong in her son’s eyes._

“But…” he faded out.

Finally, as if attributing any blame to his beloved birth mother was too much for his small brain, he gave up and reverted to form. Henry glared at her. “You always hated her. _Always_.”

Regina laughed mirthlessly at that. “Oh would that _that_ was entirely true.”

Her son gaped at her in complete confusion. She gave a sardonic twist of her lips. “I know you don’t believe me but I think… I wouldn’t object if she returned.”

“Then why run her out of town in the first place?” This was said with a very familiar, very insulting sneer. Clearly he was still unhappy at her challenging his world view of his hero.

Regina sharply pulled on the reins, drawing Peppermint to a stop. She glowered at her son. “I do not have to explain myself to you. I can see treating you as mature enough to have a discussion like this was a mistake. Now if you’re quite finished calling me names and insulting my integrity it’s time we headed back.”

Henry scowled. “We’re not even at the halfway mark.”

“I’d say we’re well beyond the point of return,” Regina said sharply. She watched as his shoulders slumped but was satisfied when she saw the left rein being tugged, turning his pony around.

  
“You’re mean.” She heard the tiny rebellious mutter, not intended to be heard, and thinned her lips. _So are you_ , she thought to herself, eyeing her son resentfully, not for the first time.

* * *

 

Archie and Matt were deep in conversation on an old wooden bench outside the stables when the horses returned. The psychiatrist had a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and his other was animatedly waving as he discussed something with enthusiasm.

Regina took one look at how in cahoots they seemed and shot them another suspicious glare. Matt saw her first, leaping to his feet and striding over. “How was the ride?” he bellowed cheerfully.

It occurred to Regina that virtually everything he did was at bellow volume. “You took to Peppermint like a pro! She doesn’t always like strangers.”

Regina slid off the horse, her smooth black boots landing easily on the ground and gave the mare an absent-minded pat. “She’s beautiful,” she said. “Actually it was Peppermint who was the pro. I merely hung on.”

Matt nodded, pleased with the assessment. “Sign of a fine rider that,” he offered. “One who respects the animal she rides and gives it the credit. Whoever taught you did it well.”

Regina’s face fell. A slow and horrible montage appeared before her face before she could stop it. Of her authoritarian tutor drilling lessons into her, and her returning the horses after each lesson to Daniel. Daniel who would take her gently in his arms for a comforting hug and call the tutor a horrible old bat and make her laugh. Then he would stroke her face with calloused fingers and ask how she was. And remind her that he loved her. For a moment, as the scent of staw hit her nose, it was like being back there. Her heart ached. _Hell, there was a reason she’d been avoiding stables for years._

“Mom? What’s wrong? You’re crying!”

Horrified, Regina lifted her hands to her face and smeared away the betraying salt water. She made her hands form fists at her side, as if bunching the evidence inside them. “Nothing, Henry,” she said sharply. _As if he cared._

Matt’s voice cut in firmly. “Why don’t you go get the saddles off Starfire and your mother’s horse there, Henry. And give both a good brush down jes like I showed you.”

Henry looked between the two of them for a beat as though he was about to argue. Instead he simply trudged off petulantly and obeyed Matt’s instructions.

“Thing about riding is it can bring back a load of memories,” Matt offered thoughtfully, fixing Regina with a steady stare. She glanced away, unwilling to see the sympathy in his eyes. Her sight landed on the shape of Archie Hopper stretched out on the bench in the distance still holding his mug.  She realised it was as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. Then it occurred to her that she rarely saw him outside of an office setting. Barely knew the man himself at all.

Matt was still speaking and his voice finally seeped back into her brain grabbing her attention.

“Plenty of memories. First time you climbed on. First time you fell off. First time your sweetheart helped you get back up again…”

Regina hissed in a sharp breath and her eyes narrowed as she pinned Matt with a hard stare. “This is NONE of your business. And I will thank you to keep your … pop psychology opinions to yourself. And I don’t know what that betraying little weasel Hopper has chirped into your ear but he had NO GODDAMNED RIGHT.”

She was trembling with fury, her outrage growing magnificent. She wanted to throttle Hopper and his loose lips. _Why she’d …._

Her thoughts trailed off when she saw it.

 _Danger_. Matt’s mask slammed down fast enough but it was there. White hot. Warning. And there was also something awfully familiar about him all of a sudden. She felt a shiver rocket down her spine.

“Now then,” he began in a low growling voice, “you jest hold your assumings _right there_.  Cos I have no idea in Hell what you are talking about and nor do I ever intend to make it my business to find out. But know this: don’t you ever insult the good doc and his intentions again. _Ever_.”

He let the implied threat hang in the air as a startled Regina inhaled. He straightened and continued, leaning forward as if about to tell her a secret.

“Who do you think took over from the sheriff in bringing me the troubled kids? Archie Hopper. Off his own bat, just stepped up to help out, and haul them out here in his own car. That’s why he’s here now, to talk over which kids need a ride back to town and when he’s bringing up the next ones. He does a helluva lot more good than anyone else in Storybrooke. And _yes_ , Madame Mayor, that includes _you_.”

Regina felt her face almost go slack. It was though she had been slapped. Humiliation at her wrong assumptions warred with the rage at his daring to speak to her like this.

Matt leaned in even closer. He smelled of cheap aftershave and straw and earthiness. And power. Something familiar again tapped away at the back of her brain.

Right now he was almost vibrating with indignation. His voice had dropped impossibly low, like a shallow scrape in the dirt. “This may be a hard concept for you to understand seeing as you’re mayor and all, but the whole world don’t revolve around _you,_ Miss Regina Mills. And we don’t all sit about Storybrooke discussing your comings and goings and happenings in your life.”

He took a step back and folded his arms defensively. “Now. That’s two.”

Regina lifted her eyebrow.

“Here’s where you give me a goddamned good apology or you and your boy don’t ever set foot on my property again.”

Regina felt fury rise anew. She bit back her first response. She wanted to gape at the man’s audacity, his presumption at treating her this way. Hell her office held the purse strings to his funding and still he would say this to her.

But she also felt the sinking in the pit of her stomach. He wasn’t _entirely_ wrong. She had just assumed Hopper was here for her and had been gossiping about her. She gave a wry internal laugh. When had she gotten so full of herself? Why had she ever assumed anyone gave a toss about her, anyway? Especially now with their beloved sheriff driven out of town thanks to her.

She saw Matt’s jaw working as he waited for her to decide. She glanced back towards the stables where she could see Henry brushing down Starfire, his tongue caught between his lips as he worked, a picture of concentration.

“I’m … sorry.” She ground it out, like jagged glass. There was nothing smooth or pleasant about her words. “I leapt to conclusions. I should not have done that.”

She crossed her arms, mirroring Matt’s pose. They both knew it didn’t sound even remotely genuine.

He eyed her sceptically. Then he shook his head in frustration. “You would play games over this?” He seemed disappointed in her.  “Ego matters this much to you?”  
  
Regina glared at him but she thought furiously. _Did it?_

She forced herself to be calm. To play the politician. What did it matter? What did her feelings matter anyway? Only one thing did now. So. She would fix this.

Finally she exhaled and looked down. “Old habits,” she said quietly. “It is hard. For me.” She looked up at him and showed she meant it.

Matt unfolded his arms and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Well now, I reckon that’s the truest thing you have ever said to me. Alright then. ‘Pology accepted. So. Same time tomorrow?”

He was already walking off. Conversation over, it seemed. Regina watched him, surprised at the gear change. He was always doing that. Half-finishing a sentence or a thought and walking away. As though life was too short.

_Maybe it was._

She thought about that. So many years holding grudges against those who wronged her. Matt let his go after one minute.

She doubted she could ever be that forgiving.

“So is that a yes?” he called out from some distance away now.

“Yes,” Regina said, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Good. Till then.”

He gave a wave but didn’t bother to turn as though something far more important was taking his attention. She watched as he headed back to the bench where Archie sat, picked up his own mug of coffee and resumed his conversation.

_Well. She now knew her place._

She found she couldn’t even be offended. Maybe she was changing.

She headed over to Henry.

“You OK?” he grunted a little awkwardly. _If that wasn’t the question for the year._

He seemed a little ashamed.

 “Fine,” she replied. “You?”

He shrugged and handed her a spare horse brush. “Yeah.”

They worked for a while before a young voice added. “Thanks.”

Regina tilted her head. “For?”

“Asking.”

Regina looked down to the straw-hewn floor of the stable and tried to hold her emotions together.

She cleared her throat. “You too.”

She felt a small arm give her a quick squeeze around her waist and then it was gone.


	29. NEW LOVE

Regina sat in the cubicle at Granny's across from Kathryn and realised she had to stop agreeing to these meetings. She still couldn't quite remember how she'd been snookered into this one, but here they sat. Today her self-appointed BFF was positively aglow. Some new man she had met. In the supermarket. "Imagine that," Kathryn explained excitedly. "In the _supermarket_.''

 _Yes_ , Regina had mused, pressing her lips together. _Imagine that._ So another happy ending was being realised. If it wasn't saccharine enough spotting Snow and Charming squiring each other openly around Storybrooke these days, now Princess Abigail had found her Prince Frederick.

 _Of course she had._ Apparently he also had "dreamy eyes" and a "fascinating insight into the world".

Fascinating insight into the world? _Please. He unpacked boxes all week._

The "L word" had come up more than once. And not even the interesting L word, Regina mused. Apparently the stockboy prince "could be the one". Regina had all but rolled her eyes.

She wondered how long before she'd be cajoled into maid of honour duties. One thing about Storybrooke - its residents scarcely wasted time in hurtling down the aisle when they believed they'd found true love. She had to consciously prevent her lip from curling at the thought of some hideous costuming confection Kathryn would want to insist she wear.

_Over her dead body._

Still, it could be worse. It was a race to the finish as to whether Kathryn or the noxious teacher would hit the aisle running first. For truly ugly dress confections, she imagined Mary Margaret's romance-novel idea of "pretty" bridesmaid outfits would be hard to beat.

Regina wondered what was the minimum time she could stay for this coffee affair before it would be seen as rude to declare that town business awaited.

Oh hell, she suddenly remembered. It was a Saturday. No town business.

But she did have an afternoon ride scheduled.

Her mind drifted. It has been six weeks since her first ride and she and Henry had been back almost every day before work or school.

She had grown fond of Peppermint, far more than she could ever have imagined, and she could tell her son adored little Starfire.

Their rides had gone from awkward and monosyllabic to occasionally containing actual chats as they picked their way along one of the various trails that scribbled across Matt's enormous property. Not that they ever talked about anything close to the one thing they probably should discuss. But, for Regina, that suited her just fine.

However that morning, Henry had decided enough was enough. When they dismounted by a cool stream to water their horses, he shoved fists in his grey pants pockets and began.

"Mooom."

The tone was beseeching and immediately Regina knew something unfortunate was about to be discussed. She braced herself.

"I have been thinking about what you said. Um. _You know._ What happened with Emma.''

"I haven't changed my mind, Henry," she frowned. "You are too young to discuss this with. And even if you weren't, you're my son. I simply don't want you to know."

Instead of arguing or glowering as he had before, he seemed to anticipate her response and walked to a small log which she had settled on. Lowering himself to sit next to her, he tucked his knees under his chin and looked out over the water.

"I don't need to know everything," he said quietly still staring out. "I was wondering if you could just tell me a couple of little things? Please?"

His eyes lifted to hers and pleaded silently.

"What?" she said and folded her arms. She squared her jaw as if readying for battle.

"This thing that Emma did to you..."

Regina's brow knitted, darkness crossing her expression. Henry saw it and hastily finished his sentence: "Was it an accident? Maybe she ... she didn't mean to hurt you?"

His expression was so hopeful, so pleading. He had obviously been agonising over what his birth mother could possibly have done. And, more likely, the fact she could have done something awful and still be his hero.

"No, she didn't mean to hurt me," Regina said evenly.

She heard a shaky, shuddering breath and Henry looked so relieved she felt her face twist.

"That mattered more to you than that she hurt me?" she asked, incredulous. She was hurt and it showed.

There was silence. Eventually Henry shook his head vigorously and slid big eyes up to her. "It mattered to me the same amount. I don't want you to get hurt. And I don't want Emma to be a mean person. To you or anyone. It's not right."

"What she did to me still wasn't right, no matter what her intentions," Regina snapped.

Henry seemed to think about that and sucked in his lower lip.

"Did you have all the Leopold monster nightmares cos of what she did?"

A pause.

"Yes."

"Does she know that?"

Regina considered that.

"Probably."

"Did she apologise? Did she tell you she was very sorry?"

The brunette sighed. Visions of Emma doing her trials of Hercules for her slipped across her brain. Then the sight of her all contorted, sleeping against her french doors frame - just because Regina needed her - came to mind.

She rubbed her head as if trying to expunge the memories.

"She was sorry," Regina eventually admitted with a puff of breath.

"But you don't forgive her? Is that why you made her leave? Because looking at her still made you super mad?"

It sounded so basic when her son said it like that. He was eleven now, and the world was so straightforward to him. At least he had stopped bringing up evil queens lately. But still, everything was black and white.

"It's ..."

"Complicated," he guessed, face twisting in dissatisfaction.

"You wouldn't understand, Henry."

"You always do that." The pout was back.

"What?" Regina ground out in irritation.

"Assume I don't understand anything cos I'm a kid." He sounded bitter now.

"No, for once Henry, that's not it. I assume you won't understand because..." Regina paused, uncertain as to whether to say the next words. Finally they came out in an unsteady, halting ramble. "Because I-I ... don't really understand why I sent her away either. That day. I just... I still don't know."

And then she realised her cheeks were wet and quickly wiped her eyes. She was far too emotional lately. It was a weakness. One of many failings she had these days. She truly was pathetic.

A small hand slipped into hers and she blinked down at it in surprise.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

She glanced over. "For what?"

"For thinking you just did it to be mean to her."

Regina gave the hand a squeeze.

"Thank you, Henry."

"Does this mean we can invite her back to Storybrooke to live?"

She froze. "Is that what this is about?" She carefully untangled fingers from her son's and cocked her head. "You just want her back?" She couldn't believe it. Her eleven-year-old had just played her like a fiddle. She felt her outrage build.

Henry sighed and grabbed her hand again. "Mom, stop it. NO." He interrupted and brought her up sharply, mid fury. "This isn't about getting Emma back. Although I would like that. Wouldn't you though? Maybe fix some stuff? Maybe?"

"No, Henry," Regina swallowed. " I don't think I could handle that right now."

"So, OK, maybe later?"

"Mmm," she said non-committally. "That would be a bit hard since no one even knows where she is."

Henry's face fell. "Oh, right."

She let go of his hand and rose, and walked to Peppermint. She climbed slowly back into the saddle then looked down. "Sorry Henry. She's gone now. And Emma is never coming back."

He gazed back at her sadly.

* * *

"Regina are you even listening to me?" Kathryn asked. "I wondered if you wanted to double date with us next Saturday."

"What?" Regina's eyes bugged out. "Who would my date be?"

"Matt. From the stables. You talk about him all the time. I found out he's single and available. And I thought maybe you two..."

"No!" she said more sharply than she intended. "He and I are most definitely not dating material."

"How do you know until you try?"

"Absolutely not. Do not involve me in your dating life, and definitely not with that bear of a man. My god, when you get him all worked up and enraged he looks just like..."

Suddenly she knew exactly what he looked like. The blood drained from her face. " _Just like..._ " she repeated softly as she saw the helmeted visage of a man mountain who rode at the head of King George's army and would often wave an almighty battle mace the size of a small tree. She had only ever seen his eyes before peering out under all that formidible armour. No wonder she had not instantly recognised him.

He was easily the king's most feared champion. And he boasted a terrifying name to make enemy armies quake on sight of him.

 _For God's sake_ , she gasped inwardly. _Her son was getting riding lessons from Grigor the Impaler._

She banged her coffee cup onto the table and scrabbled to her feet. "I have to go," she gasped, grabbing her handbag and tossing some money down impatiently.

"Regina, is everything OK?"

Her answer was the clang of the bell to the diner and the door slapping shut.

Kathryn watched her go distractedly, idly wondering how Regina would feel about being a maid of honour if it came to that.

At the thought of her new love, her eyes glazed over and she smiled. _How could Regina refuse such an offer?_


	30. GODS AND MONSTERS

Regina took in the musty surrounds of Gold's store, not bothering to hide her distaste. For one so detail oriented in his business contracts, he never seemed to mind clutter and chaos in his shop. She eyed a particularly incongruous pair of large dolls and wrinkled her nose. _Seriously ugly sense of taste, too_.

But she wasn't here to shop.

Gold limped to the counter and smiled. All surface glitter and promise. It made her skin crawl.

"Madame Mayor," the man began. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She ran a derisive finger over the counter and eyed it, expecting to find a layer of grime. Surprised it actually came up clean, she still rubbed it with her index finger insultingly, as she took her time answering.

They both knew this game well. The goal was to seem the least interested and least desperate while doing a deal. So far she was ahead on points, thanks to his unfortunate and curiously emotional business deal recently involving a chipped cup. She was keen to maintain the upper hand.

"Gold," she purred. "I need some information."

"I see," he said neutrally, although she could see by the way his eyes lit up, he was most definitely intrigued. "And who or what has captured your attention today, Madame Mayor?"

"Someone from a place far, far away, where you and I share a history. Someone who, it seems, has also made his home in my little town, unnoticed for far too long."

She paused and pinned Gold with a look. "Grigor …" she waited a beat for effect… "the Impaler."

Gold's face twisted into a parody of a grin. His fingers wiggled for a second before he placed them firmly on glass counter and leaned forward.

"Well, well, Madame Mayor. Now there's a name I haven't heard for many years. And what interest is it to you if Storybrooke houses another mass murderer?"

Regina folded her arms.

" _Another_?"

Gold's smirk moved to downright condescending. "Looked in any mirrors lately?"

"Have _you_?" she shot back in a flash, but she felt the sting nonetheless.

"Please, dearie, I am the god not the monster. After all I created you both."

Regina bit back a retort and eyed the businessman with interest. "What do you mean 'us both'? You toyed with Grigor?"

"Far, far more than toyed. And I can promise you it's a story well worth hearing. But like all things…"

Regina scowled. "What's your price?"

"That depends. What's your interest?"

"Personal. Not your concern."

"Well I can't have you destroying what I worked so diligently hard to create so, Madame Mayor, I really must insist. I would like to know your intentions. _Please_."

Regina glared at the imp and fought to contain her breathing. "I am acting as a concerned parent. That monster is living here, unleashed and unsupervised, and I discovered today he is teaching my son horse riding. Not to mention he is custodian to several Storybrooke youth at any given time. Now if he is not as he appears, if he is training an army… or _impaling_ one … I would rather like to know. _If that's not too much trouble_." She gave him a sickly sweet politician's smile.

In response Gold leaned under his counter, rummaged briefly and pulled out a dusty book. He began to slide it over to the brunette who was reaching greedily for it but he suddenly stopped, clamping his hand down instead.

"You have not agreed to my price."

"You have my attention."

"My price is true love. _Unfettered_ true love."

" _What_?"

"Three lovey dovey couples in Storybrooke are presently spreading their wings or are about to. I am sure you haven't failed to notice romance is in the air. All I want is them left alone. I know how tempting it is for Storybrooke's eternally meddling town leader to drive a pike through the heart of happiness."

He gave her a wide, knowing grin. "Anyone would think there was something you were _up to_ in doing so. A hidden game?"

Regina scowled. "Oh for God's sake, stop beating around the bush. We both know true love could break the curse at any time and I am rather highly motivated to keep it in place. So I ... _course correct_ others' affairs of the heart from time to time. But what I want to know is why do you care either way?"

"My. Business." Gold snapped. "Is it a deal? Don't impede the progress of true love and Grigor's secrets are all yours."

"And by the three couples you mean the two doe-eyed princesses and their beaus, and who else?"

"You really don't know?" Gold looked at her curiously. "Your intel network is really not what it was, dearie. How can you have failed to miss what is right under your nose?"

"Let's just say Sidney Glass wasn't _entirely_ useless," Regina frowned and put her hands on her hips. "Who is the third couple?"

"I think it makes it all the more delicious if you discover that on your own."

"How can I possibly abide by the terms of this deal, if you won't tell me whose love life I am forbidden from meddling with?"

"Simple, Mayor Mills: Don't meddle in anyone's. Problem solved." Gold gave her a smirk and then pushed the book the rest of the way over to her. "Agreed?"

"Fine," she snapped.

She turned the heavy leather-bound book around to face her and lifted its cover. A cloud of dust rose and she peered through it to see spidery writing and a block-etched picture.

It was an illustration of an enormous hulk of a man in battle gear, helmet, and waving a studded mace. He sat on a rearing midnight-black stallion and appeared about to crush the skull of an unarmed villager in rags, cowering before him.

"See anyone familiar?"

"Of course," Regina said impatiently. "Grigor."

"Note the background of the illustration – all those heads on pikes. Women, children, I think there's even someone's puppy over there." Gold tapped part of the ink drawing.

"Yes, fine, we all know the stories of the carnage of Grigor the Impaler."

"Indeed we do, and that's the point."

"What?"

" _It's all lies_."

"Lies? Everyone knows what he did. Children from the old world would tremble when parents warned them to go to sleep or Grigor would come for them."

"Ah yes, Fairytaleland's very own brutal bogey monster. But it doesn't alter the fact he was a fiction."

"Ridiculous," Regina snapped. "I saw Grigor in battle with my own eyes. He was ferocious and larger than life and _most definitely_ exists."

"Oh yes yes yes, of course a man called Grigor existed. But you might say he was the product of our old world's first ever PR battle campaign."

Regina stared at him. "What are you saying?"

"As I recall King George was losing too many men in his battles – and not all due to the enemy. He lost soldiers from desertion. He wasn't a fearsome leader. Yes, the man was cruel enough but he was no rallying point for recruits. Far too _tactical_ ," Gold said and gave his fingers a wriggling flourish. "However he was tactical enough to call me in for a little favour to fix his image problem."

Regina looked at him doubtfully. "So you invented a villain? A poster child? To make the armies tremble."

"Invent is indeed the right word. I toured George's troops in search of just the man. When I failed there I went to towns and villages until I found a young farmer. Tall and impossibly strong, able to wave a battle mace like it was a toothpick. That he was no killer was neither here nor there. He did fit the costume and play the part and that was all I needed."

"No killer? Are you insane? Everyone knows what Grigor the Impaler did!"

"You are not paying attention, dearie. Everyone knows what Grigor the IMPALER did. And yet the weapon he carried into battle was a mace. Ever tried to impale anyone with a mace?" Gold gave a tiny snort.

"Grigor, the real Grigor, was useless. He was also clumsy with a lance so I gave him a mace so heavy it was all he could do to concentrate on holding it aloft. People were so astonished he could even lift it, no one bothered to notice he was never seen actually killing anyone. In fact, quite the opposite.

"Every time a ceasefire was underway I had to shroud Grigor in a mist because he would be crying so hard over the dead horses on the battlefield. Anything or anyone seen impaled after the shroud lifted … purely magic." Gold waved his hands as if denoting a simple parlour trick.

"So… Matt and Grigor … neither is a monster?"

"No, my dear. Sorry to disappoint."

He paused. "Although I am particularly curious as to why any of this affects you. It cannot be just because your dear baird has riding lessons with him."

"That's exactly why it affects me. I need to know he would never hurt Henry."

Gold eyed her closely. "It's more than that. Why else would you agree to my terms? Terms that could potentially shatter the only other thing you hold dear. No, Madame Mayor, whatever the reason, it must have really mattered to you."

Regina swallowed, willing the hideous imp not to guess.

"Yes, yes, I see it there," a twisted index finger came up and pointed at the pulse point beating swiftly in her neck. " _Fear_."

He leaned closer, capturing her eyes with his own. She could hear the book sliding back across to his side of the table. "Why does this matter so much to you?" he pondered aloud. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and gave a cruel smile.

"But of course," he said. "I had forgotten about your own failed attempt at true love. _Miss Swan I believe_?"

At Regina's startled look, he waved his hand dismissively. "Please, Sidney Glass sings like a canary with the right incentive and a few prison luxuries. As _you_ well know. Of course Mister Glass seemed to think the love was only one-way traffic. I, on the other hand, make it my business to know when love might be a _two-way_ street. You just never know when it comes in handy." He smiled knowingly and Regina suddenly felt sick.

"I have no idea what outrageous…"

"Do not take me for a fool, dearie. You came here because you desperately wanted to know if a monster can ever change. If it can ever become reformed? Cured? Made unbroken? Dare I say … turned loveable?" He laughed. "Do stop me when I score a direct hit."

He leaned close until his lips were almost touching her ear. She forced herself not to recoil. "How crushing it must be to learn Grigor never was a real monster to begin with. So you won't get your answer, after all. You'll just have to live with the crushing fear that you are as unworthy, unlovable and monstrous as you suspect. All the things your own mirror has told you for years, dearie."

Regina gaped at the bastard. Rage and humiliation warring; her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. Her jaw clenched. How could this, this ... creature know any of these things about her? She had barely understood it herself until recently.

How could he know her fears that if she let Emma in, if she pursued this _thing_ between them, that she might be rejected. That Emma would discover underneath it all lay just … blackness. _Worthless, hollowed out blackness._

She hadn't entirely lied when she told Henry that she didn't know why she had sent Emma away. It's just she didn't _want_ to know. Didn't want to admit what she suspected. That she, too, felt something _more_. Something beyond what she was emotionally equipped to give or face. Something that would destroy them both if she had acted on it then.

"Oh dear," Gold giggled. "Did that just shatter any idea you might also be worthy of twu love?"

He dropped all pretence of geniality and a dangerous expression flashed darkly across his face. "I trust you'll remember who you are dealing with the next time you steal one of my prized possessions."

The look disappeared as though it had never been and he affected a pleasant smile. "Now if you're quite finished finding your soul severely lacking, I have work to do. _Dearie_ ," he added dismissively.

"You…" Regina snarled, eyes narrowed with rage. She hissed at him: "You might be right about one thing, you cretinous little imp: I might still be a monster underneath it all, _thanks to you_. But you are kidding yourself if you think I am the only one of my kind in this town." She raked her eyes over him to make her point.

"And if you truly are a god, then you are Hades, fucking God of the Underworld. You do not even _have_ a soul to be found unworthy of. And, unlike me, _dearie_ , you have no one at all who might want to love you. Of us both that makes _you_ far sadder."

Regina spun around and stormed out of the shop and slammed the door so hard the bell flew off and smashed to the floor. She looked back. Instead of seeing the expected smugness from the man who had manipulated her for years, she saw biting pain. Gold caught a glimpse of her watching and quickly bent down, hidden from sight, to put the book back under the counter.

She hoped the bastard choked on his poisonous judgments. _He was just as diseased as she was for God's sake._ The difference was: _she knew what she was_.

Regina paused and leaned against a shop store window.

But he was still right about one thing. She _was_ unworthy. Regina slipped her hands around her coat, hugging her ribs and began to stalk away.

 _Yes, she was unworthy. Yes she was blackness personified, the sort of person that someone who was pure goodness might reject._ _But she was_ damned _sure she was not going to stay that way._

She'd let other people's opinions of her matter for far too long.

Decided, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and dialled a number.

_Time to see if Dr Archie Hopper was as good as he thought he was._

* * *

**BOSTON PRESENT DAY**

Emma looked at the small cardboard square in her hands and glanced at Regina. "Those two? Really?"

Regina nodded.

"Well 'bout time they tied the knot. Guess they were just waiting for Maine's laws to change."

"You knew?"

"Of course. There's only so many times I can turn up at seven in the morning with one of Storybrooke's young troublemakers in tow to find Archie coming out of Matt's ranch house, half awake, with _really_ bad bed hair. Of course I knew. Sides, he was so happy around Matt. Kinda had a goofy glow to him."

Regina smirked. "Well the deliriously happy couple asked me to tell you they would be delighted if you would attend as my date. Matt says he misses the way you told the kids to stop sassing you. He says and I quote: 'Most creative non-curse words I ever dang heard'."

"It's a skill," Emma said nonchalantly. "I didn't realise you knew Matt." She turned the card over and noted the details and date. She tried not to notice how hard her heart was thumping at the thought of going back to Storybrooke, to a wedding no less, with Regina proudly at her side. Not some dirty little secret. _That would be new. If she agreed._ She bit her lip.

"He taught Henry to ride."

"Right," Emma answered distractedly.

"Sorry dear, did I lose you?"

Emma's eyes flashed up. "Is that a trick question?"

A silence fell between them and Emma realised Regina hadn't been doing her usual clever little wordplays. She looked startled and genuinely taken aback by the question.

The mayor's face assumed a serious expression. "I don't know Emma, and that's another reason I am here. To find out."

The blonde swallowed, unsure what to make of unvarnished honesty from the mayor. It was so out of character. "Just how many reasons are there?"

"Well I can give you a whole list if it would help. Henry also wanted me to invite you to his 12th birthday next month. We both agreed you'd never believe him if he emailed you and told you I'd given permission for him to ask, especially given how many times he's lied about obtaining permission from me in the past."

She quirked her lips in a way Emma found impossible not to define as completely adorable.

"Well, yes, it was his modus operandi for a few years," Emma agreed with a laugh.

Regina smiled and leaned forward. "I love your laugh," she husked and then slipped her fingers through Emma's on the table.

The blonde started in surprise and quickly retracted her hand. "OK who are you and what have you done to Mayor Mills? You know, the superbitchy, bad-ass town leader who hated my guts, even when she was trying to leap my bones, and who also spent a good part of her time trying to run me out of town. Before she finally _did_ run me out of town, I might add, simultaneously completely and thoroughly breaking my heart."

Silence. All Emma could hear was the pianist in the background and her own thudding heart. Cards on the table time. She watched Regina anxiously.

The brunette dropped her gaze and nodded pensively. "Contrary to popular belief, dear, I never _entirely_ hated your guts, as you put it. It was more a question of degree at any given time in history." She slid her gaze up to hers from under hooded eyes.

"Uh huh," the blonde whispered and gazed back at her sceptically. _God it was hard to stay mad at her._ "I mean it. Who are you? You're so different. Good different though. But still..."

Regina suddenly rose and smoothed her hands down her beautiful ebony suit. She grinned, and in the dim lighting all Emma could see was white teeth. _How did she do that? Make even her teeth look like perfection?_

The brunette didn't answer but instead held out her hand. "Miss Swan, would you care to dance? The answer to your question may come to you when we're cheek to cheek."

Emma paused, unsure if her jangled nerve endings could cope being that close to all that mayor for yet another dance. "I…"

"Come, my dear, let's light up Boston's oldest ladies club and make every woman in here gape at us. Make Miss Understood earn her keep. Oh and I promise to make it a dance and a night you will never forget."

Emma slid back her chair, and stood. "That's a promise I will keep you to," she said with an amused twist of her lips.

She did not tell her she had already kept it, as Regina led her to the dance floor, an arm slipped possessively around her waist.

 _God help me_ , were the last cogent thoughts Emma had as Regina Mills firmly pulled her close, her cheek brushing against Emma's.


	31. BIT BY BIT

**BOSTON - PRESENT DAY**

Emma felt her body mould into Regina's as they swirled around the dance floor, ebbing and flowing with the pull of the music. It was like they shared the same pulse, and knew instinctively where the other was moving.

The room was watching them, just as Regina had predicted, but Emma forgot anything else but the woman whose arms she was in as the dance became more intimate.

Emma found the friction of sliding against the brunette's breasts and belly and thighs intoxicating, and when Regina pulled their hips closer, she sighed.

_Or was it a moan?_

_Shit._

A hint of a smile on the other woman's face told her that she'd heard it, too, and Emma quickly turned her head into Regina's shoulder to hide her embarrassment.

She felt gentle fingers scribble through her cascading blonde curls and then cup a palm comfortingly over her head. The soft touch then slid down her cheek and finally under her chin, tilting up.

Lips danced across the edge of her ear as she leaned forward and whispered softly. "It's alright, Emma. I feel it, too."

The deep red lips briefly lingered and dropped, then grazed her neck. Goosepimples spread across Emma's sensitive flesh and she bit back a gasp.

"Regina," she growled, "I am supposed to hate you right now. F-for ruining my life. You are making it very hard.'' Her last words came out like a confused plea.

She felt the lips curve into a wide smile against her neck and then the brunette's face lifted away from her. Emma mourned its warmth and fell into the lure of soft brown eyes.

"I know, dear. If it helps, I never succeeded in hating you in all those months I tried, either. Perhaps ... some things are not meant to be?"

* * *

 

**STORYBROOKE - PAST**

Regina felt the coolness of the window in Archie Hopper's office against her skin. It was small but it gave her a break from looking at him. She didn't want to read his particular expression or sense him trying to process her pain.

She was tired of being in pain. She knew that much. And tired of being a pawn. She wondered if any of her adult life had actually been directed by herself. Not the small decisions - the petty scheming and minor victories. The big picture. Was any of it from her at all? Rumple had reminded her more than once over the many months since he had been cognisant of his true memories that she was his monster. Built and constructed from pure Gold.

But the yoke at her neck seemed to bite deepest right now. She wasn't sure why she cared or noticed more at this moment, but she did. And she needed the bug to tell her why. And to fix her.

She sighed and watched as the glass fogged up under her breath. Regina could feel the psychiatrist's eyes on her back. The problem was the starting. Silence had been dragging on for fifteeen minutes. Archie watched her curiously while she watched the view.

"Ever been in love, Doctor?'' she finally drawled and turned to look at him. Her smug expression hid her anxiety well. _Well, the best defense..._

To her surprise she saw a faint rising of red up his neck. She lifted her eyebrow. _This was new._

"We're not here to talk about me, Madame Mayor,'' he said and rapidly removed and began to polish his spectacles. "There had to be a reason you urgently requested this meeting."

"So you _have_ ," Regina smiled a catlike smirk that was both disarming and dangerous. She gazed at him knowingly. "Do tell me who she was?"

Hopper hesitated.

"Or ... still _is_..." Regina amended at the sight of his nervous twitch.

He twitched again. Her eyebrows lifted even higher. "Or _he_ is?''

His mouth opened then shut.

"Stop me when I get to polyamorous or even rarer choices." She arranged her features into false earnestness and added with a wicked smirk: " _No judging, dear_."

"Mayor Mills," he sighed, "What would you like to discuss? You pulled me out of a meeting stating you had urgent business, and I really think maybe that's what we should talk about. We both know you have no interest in my love life."

She folded her arms and her jaw worked. "Fine. I want to make some changes."

He scribbled something in his notepad and she strode over and glanced down before he slapped a piece of paper on top of it.

"You wrote down 'cereal'?" she accused, towering over him. "Are you doing your shopping list now?"

Archie blushed hotly. "I just remembered I was supposed to pick some up and then you called and ... I didn't want to forget when I remembered just now."

Regina tried hard not to gape at him. Suddenly it seemed so surreal. It was difficult to remember the bug had a life. That Archie Hopper was a real man - or insect - underneath all his feverish busybodying. A man who bought cereal and dog food and, it seemed, even had a mysterious lover.

She wondered if she liked him more or less knowing this.

She tilted her head. "Who are you seeing?"

"Why?"

"Just curious."

"No you're not, Madame Mayor. You're stalling. Or else the topic of romance is high on your agenda right now. Do you really want me to speculate further on that possibility?"

Regina scowled. "No. I do not. And this meeting is not about Emma Swan."

"Who mentioned Emma?"

Regina ground her teeth. "You. Often enough. As if everything comes back to her."

"Does it?"

"See! You're impossible." She gave her head a frustrated shake. She lowered her voice to a growl. "I told you once I was broken. I am here because ... I want you to fix me."

Archie blinked in astonishment as if honesty was the very last thing he expected from her.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Oh by all means, let's consider this request as grounds to gawp at me. Is this task so impossible it is laughable to you?"

The doctor peered up at her, observing her now pacing in front of his desk. "Do you think it is?"

"Would I _be_ here if I thought so?"

"Perhaps," he replied non-committally. "By the way, how's the horse riding coming along?"

Regina paused, disconcerted by the abrupt shift in direction.

"Fine. Henry and I are getting on much better. We have had some talks about ... painful things."

She licked her lips nervously and flicked her eyes back to him. He was gazing at her sympathetically and it was starting to give her a headache. She returned to her spot at the window, staring unseeingly out.

For a moment she could not decide what she was doing here. It was insane. Sharing her secrets and lies and much worse with this ... this bug of a man. Who got his degree out of a curse for God's sake.

She grimaced. Maybe she should just leave. Yes. She would just ...

"Nothing changes, you know," the doctor's voice noted quietly, as if reading her mind. "Nothing. Until you finally talk. Share. All of it. Not just the broad brushstrokes but everything you've left out. It's up to you, of course. But if you really want help - to be fixed as you call it - you have to take a risk. But everything you say will be strictly between us."

Regina tilted her head against the window pane. Thoughts crowded in. Memories, some too horrific to bear, others almost white noise now. Pros and cons. Her old life and new. Hopper wasn't kidding. It was a high risk.

"I am not sure I can," she finally admitted. "I just don't ... I don't think I..."

Silence sat between them for a few beats.

"And yet something made you call me," Archie inserted thoughtfully. "You came here for a reason today."

Regina nodded and thought over her conversation with Rumple. Some days he enjoyed comparing her to her mother, just to sink the poison in. Other days he would remind her of how she hated what she saw in the mirror. Or he would invoke his "pleases" just to mock her powerlessness. He knew her far too well. It was galling. And shameful. And today felt like too much. She was sick of it.

"A reason to do with love, perhaps?'' The doctor's voice cut through her meandering thoughts.

She started and glared at him indignantly.

He lifted a hand placatingly. "Well you asked about my love life. As I said, it was a safe bet romance was on your mind somewhere."

Regina's shoulders sagged. _Romance_. Such a quaint word. The sort of word for young lovers, not the warped expressions of sexual conquest she liked to engage in.

Romance goes with youth. Not tired broken mayors at the end of their tethers.

An old image floated across her mind. Of beauty. And perfect romance.

"I was in love once," she heard a whisper that floated into the glass. She closed her mouth, surprised to find she had said the words out loud. "I mentioned him to you once before. His name was ..."

She faded out. _Hell._ She couldn't do this. If she said the name she would say the rest. And she could not say the rest.

She swallowed. Her hand was trembling so she turned it into a fist against the wooden pane.

"I _can't_."

She shook her head firmly. Decided. She angled her head slightly to gauge his reaction.

The doctor's face softened and he eyed her kindly.

"Matt."

"What?" She turned fully to stare.

"I am dating Matt Grigorieva. From the stables. We've been seeing each other for 18 months. I never thought I'd ever find love, Regina. But there you go. Sometimes it just happens," he gave a boyish shrug, "And with the person you least expect."

Regina blinked at the news and realised that so much now made sense. Matt's fury and defensiveness at her running Hopper down. Why the psychiatrist always seemed to be at a horse ranch in the middle of nowhere at all hours. Why he seemed so much more alive lately.

_Love does that._

She frowned.

"You think by telling me about your love life, I will tell you about mine?" she challenged in a dangerous drawl. "Not very professional, doctor." She raised her eyebrows archly.

"I just thought you have enough secrets for both of us," the doctor replied casually. "And I have no reason to hide mine. It was just habit. After all this time, I don't even know why we are hiding anymore. Secrets only have power if we let them."

He paused and eyed her pointedly. "You know what I mean, Madame Mayor."

She did. She found her hands had stopped trembling and thought for a moment. She finally walked over to the chair opposite him and sank into it. She slid her eyes up to the psychiatrist's and gave him a quizzical stare.

"So. _Matt_ ," she confirmed. "You're dating Matt." She heard the disbelief in her tone the moment she said it aloud.

Archie beamed this time, even in the face of Regina's less than exuberant response, and then nodded.

"Yes."

The absurdity of this mousy bespectacled little man falling for the mythical man-mountain that was Grigor the Impaler seemed beyond ridiculous. But she couldn't deny how happy he now seemed.

She had felt that way once. "Good for you," she finally muttered when she realised he seemed to be waiting for a reaction. She glanced down and fidgeted with her hands. She twisted the small green-stone ring on her finger and sucked in a deep breath.

_Secrets did have power._ She grimaced. And she was so very tired of feeling powerless.

She cleared her throat and in a small, nervous voice began.

"His name ... was Daniel."


	32. RESOLUTE

**BOSTON - PRESENT DAY**

Regina leaned against the wall outside Emma's apartment and observed her under hooded eyes. Emma watched her back. She swallowed nervously. Their night had been ... incredible. And terrifying. And seductive. And terrifying some more. And a little surreal.

When they had finally left the dance floor after what had seemed like hours moving in each others arms, they had felt the room's eyes on them once more, with expressions ranging from envious to downright slack-jawed. The mischievous pianist had been unable to resist marking their departure with a few bars of The Wedding March which had stopped them both dead in their tracks and elicited titters around the whole room.

Emma had shot her fiercest glare at Miss Understood, throwing her hands to her hips in warning, while Regina had bitten back a smirk, whispered "Come, dear," before gently drawing her over into the candle-lit dimness of the body of the club. Miss Understood had promptly returned to her scheduled set list, not without an unrepentant - and clearly audible - snort of laughter.

And now they were home. Emma glanced at the slightly flaking paint on her front door and wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. She could smell Regina's unique scent, mixed with the slightest hint of perspiration from their dancing, and something else. Something far more erotic.

She swallowed again.

"D-do you want to come in?" she finally asked, self-consciously jerking her thumb towards the door. She smoothed her hands down her dress when she realised how clammy they felt.

Regina's eyes flashed darkly with desire at the stammered question and it was almost Emma's undoing. "N-not for th-that. I meant we _talk_." God, she could barely get words out. She gulped. The way Regina was looking at her was simply...

" _Yes, Emma_ ," Regina interrupted and enunciated in a low, husky voice, "I would." She stepped even closer and Emma could feel the mayor's body heat through that impossibly sexy dark suit. "I would be most intrigued to see where you live now. I had often wondered."

Emma's mouth twisted in amusement at that. "It's not much," she replied fumbling through her handbag for her house keys. "But it's more than I had. In Storybrooke."

She flicked her eyes up to Regina's and found her expression unreadable. The key slid into the lock on the third attempt, and not before the brunette had whispered near her ear "Relax, dear."

Inside the apartment she looked around with a critical eye, trying to see her home from Regina's point of view. It was no mansion, that was for sure.

She took in the small two-seater grey sofa she'd acquired from a thrift shop, and the unmatched chair opposite. A TV - an old analog, square ugly thing her neighbor was about to toss when his flatscreen plasma arrived - sitting on a wooden fruit crate. Well, it was practical - the right height for the bunny-eared aerial to give passable reception.

She could see the brown and cream patterned peeling linoleum on the kitchen floor, and the 70s green laminate benchtop which she never looked at too long as it gave her a headache.

The fridge was newish, but small - definitely for a single person. She glanced over to her bedroom door. Shit - it was open. Her cluster fuck of dresses still lay like a rainbow explosion all over bed. She really hoped Regina wouldn't look that way.

She heard the front door snick shut behind them and the lock turned with a loud clunk.

"Safety first," Regina drawled. "I hear Boston is full of criminals and dangers and ... temptations."

Emma's eyebrows flew up her forehead and her heart began to race. Shit, she felt so lost. She needed...

"Help yourself to a drink in the fridge," the blonde said quickly. "I j-just have to go to the bathroom."

She turned and bolted.

The moment she shut the heavy wooden door and lowered herself to the toilet-seat lid she exhaled heavily. What the hell was she doing? With Regina. Her heart-shattering nemesis.

Mandy had given her specific instructions for the evening which she had already violated about a thousand times. Willingly, at that. The recollection of the touch of Regina's hand sweeping across the bare small of her back gave her a shiver. And she knew she had a pool of wetness between her legs and a familiar ache down there that proved exactly how much she missed being in the charismatic woman's company.

 _Focus, Swan_ , she told herself. _She is here, and you're here, but no way are you gonna make old mistakes and rush things without thinking or questioning. That's where everything turned to shit last time._

She had learned a lot of lessons these past 18 months - and spent a lot of mournful nights reliving her old mistakes. She wasn't the same person who had slowly driven out of Storybrooke that day, a sheen of salt water filling her eyes and a gaping hole in her heart so desolate she feared she would never ever be repaired. Never feel normal again.

It had been a long struggle to claw herself out of the hole. And to feel even remotely herself. Except she wasn't. She was more worn. More worldly. And she was no fool. She was also fucking resolute when she wanted to be. She gave a grim smile. Yep.

She rose and opened the bathroom door, which gave a small squeak.

Regina was examining the contents of her fridge like a museum academic would his butterfly collection.

"I'm no expert, Emma," a voice began from within the fridge - clearly Regina's hearing was as good as ever - "But it looks rather like you have left vegetable matter in here so long it may have become sentient." The drawl was back. The sexy one that could undo Emma on the spot in Storybrooke.

 _So much for being fucking resolute_. She had the focus of a five-year-old on a red-cordial high.

"Oh yeah, um, I forgot to toss it before I went on my last job. And I only got back today, so..."

Regina finally stood, holding aloft a wine bottle. "Is this one safe at least?"

"Depends," Emma muttered. "What do you want it to protect you from?"

Regina's rich laugh filled the room and Emma found herself grinning, too. She entered the kitchen and pulled out a pair of wine glasses from the overhead cupboards. She gave them a rinse in the sink and, at Regina's sideways look, blurted self-consciously: "Haven't used them in eight months, God knows how much dust is on there."

"Eight months? I would have thought a sexy career woman about town like yourself would be ... wining and dining more regularly?" Regina suggested with a dangerous smirk. It did not reach her eyes. She leaned back against the now-closed fridge door and placed the wine bottle pointedly on the counter.

"Uh... no." Emma's mouth formed a grim line as she hunted for a cork screw.

"Not even the country-singing lawyer earned ... wine-tasting privileges?"

The question was even more edged this time and Emma flicked her eyes up from the drawer she had been rummaging through.

"Please," Emma said with a shrug. "I have a little more self respect than bringing home the woman who couldn't get through starters without hitting on our boobalicious waitress."

Regina smiled at that, her full wide-lipped genuine smile that always brought a wobble to Emma's knees.

"Then Miss Shania was clearly both blind and a fool."

There was a dull thud and they both looked down to find the cork screw bouncing off cheap linoleum. Emma flushed hotly and scooped it up, turning her back to Regina as she washed it down.

 _She had to collect herself_. She tried to still her shuddering breath. S _he was fucking resolute, goddammit._

_Fucking. Resolute._

_OK then._

She turned back, and busied herself with the cork. "What about you?" Emma asked in an unsteady voice. "Any new, uh, paramours since I left?"

There was a delicious cackle from the direction of the fridge. "Paramours?" Regina teased. "How very quaint of you, dear. And no."

Emma snapped her head and pinned the brunette with a look of confusion. "None at all? I mean for the whole 18 months or ..."

" _None_ ," Regina said, nipping the word neatly as though snipping the stem off a cherry. " _At. All_."

"Oh." Emma stared at her.

Competing thoughts rushed and tumbled through Emma's brain. She wondered if she had broken the mayor, or if she had lost her confidence or no one interested her or... _Shit. What did it mean?_

"You are a hard act to follow, my dear," Regina offered with a small smile, reading her expression. "None could compete."

"I..."

Emma hadn't been exactly celibate. She'd had a few one-night stands here and there. But they had been empty. Bloodless. And ultimately unsatisfying. The night she picked up a brunette just because she had a mayor-esque skirt-suit on was the moment she realised. So she had stopped altogether. She had sworn off all dating until Shania had finally worn her down with her pleasant curves and uncomplicated chatter. But the thought that Regina hadn't so much as touched ...

"I..." she started again.

"You already said that, dear," the brunette purred. She took a step closer. "Need a hand with the wine? I would hate for us to perish of dehydration if we left it up to you."

Confident hands shooed Emma's away, edged the cork the rest of the way out of the bottle and poured it into two glasses.

Emma was then efficiently handed a glass. She stared at it in confusion, for a moment unsure how it even ended up in her fingers. She felt Regina watching her but she continued to gaze into the liquid. It felt like everything was spiralling rapidly out of her control.

Finally she sensed the brunette had taken a step back, and then another, giving her some much-needed space.

"This is a lot for you to process, isn't it?"

Regina had asked her gently, thoughtfully. All trace of guile and charm gone.

Emma looked up at her and nodded gratefully. She latched onto the brown eyes and blurted: "I never thought I'd see you again."

It came out harsher than she'd expected, like an anguished, painful thing. Ripped from her heart. Her hand flew to her chest as if to punctuate where it hurt, and she stared at Regina in confusion.

Regina inclined her head. "I hadn't intended to cause you ... any further pain. Was it a mistake? For me to come?"

NO! Her heart screamed. Her brain twisted itself in a knot over the thought before giving up, undecided.

Regina nodded once and placed her glass back on the counter, the wine untasted. "I see," she said sadly at the silence. "That was never my intent. I should probably..." she glanced at the door.

"NO!" Emma suddenly said fiercely. "Not _again_. You don't just decide for both of us when I am allowed to be in your presence. _Again!_ I just... I need a few moments. I... Please. Let's just go and sit."

Hope flared briefly in Regina's eyes and she gave a tiny pleased smile as she followed Emma out of the kitchen.

They walked past Emma's bedroom door, still ajar, and Regina gave a small chuckle at the sight inside, before they headed to the couch.

"Don't say a word, Mills," Emma said grumpily to hide her acute embarrassment at what was on display.

"You should see my hotel room," Regina intoned. Emma's head snapped around, uncertain.

" _Emma_. I didn't mean it that way, I just ... you were not the only one faced with some fashion decisions this evening."

The blonde's eyes swept over Regina's suit appreciatively. "Well I do approve of what won the vote."

"Thank you, dear."

Regina seated herself elegantly on the couch and looked at the spare seat beside her expectantly. Emma instead pulled up an old arm chair opposite and shook her head. "Oh no, I am not getting that close to you and your super pheromones. I mean it. We should talk. Just talk."

Regina's mouth curved into a smile. "Super pheromones? I must say I am flattered."

"Yeah well, it's just a fact. So you keep your perfect suit, and perfect hair and perfect lips over there, and we can maybe figure out whether I am going to Storybrooke."

The brunette smiled at the list of compliments. "No," Emma interjected crossly at her look, "You don't get to look sexily amused either. So quit all the games for five minutes. This is really hard for me.''

"I wasn't playing any games, Emma," Regina protested her innocence. "I have been honest with you all evening."

"Really?" the blonde retorted sceptically. She leaned over to her handbag and rooted around. Finally Emma lifted out the square wedding invitation and flipped it around and showed Regina what was printed on the back.

"No games?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Regina Mills had the good grace to look faintly embarrassed. "It's not what you think."

Emma sighed. "It never is with you, is it?" She put down the invitation and eyed her companion.

"Still, I'm listening."


	33. ABSOLUTELY NO KISSING

BOSTON - PRESENT DAY

"So, let's hear it," Emma began, eyes flicking to the date on the back of the wedding invitation.

"I would love to know why giving me an invitation to a wedding being held tomorrow...," she paused, arcing her head around to glance at a wall clock, "or, rather _today_ now, isn't some game. Because if you really wanted me to go, wouldn't I get, I dunno, a little more than 24 hours' notice?"

Her mouth twisted down unhappily as her thoughts whirred. "Unless this is your sneaky way of press-ganging me into going before I have time to think about it? Get me with my guard down? Which is it?"

"Do you really think, dear, I would have driven all this way in the hope you would say _no_ to attending?" Regina began, leaning back against the sofa. Her eyes blinked dismissively at the woman opposite as if she were delusional.

"And, really, anyone who knows you at all knows that forcing you to do anything against your will is a fool's errand. As I well know. You are ... endearingly stubborn."

Emma folded her arms in irritation at the assessment even though it was probably completely accurate. The forceful movement instantly pushed her cleavage spectacularly up and out.

Regina's lips parted the tiniest bit. Brown eyes slid appreciatively across the now ample display of pale skin.

Emma gave the mayor a baleful stare as she unfolded her arms again and tried to elegantly readjust the front of her dress. She gave up and let her hands drop to her lap more forcefully than was necessary.

"Then _what_?"

"I ..." Regina furrowed her brow and shook her head. "I almost didn't come here. Or rather I had planned two earlier trips and each time, I didn't actually make it."

"Car trouble?" Emma mocked. "Cos those Mercs are such shoddy, clapped-out bombs. Wreckers yards are full of them."

"Not exactly," Regina pursed her lips. An embarrassed look crossed her features. "More a matter of me not committing to the plan ... fully."

She dropped her eyes down to her thighs and an elegant finger flicked invisible lint off the black pants. It was a careless gesture but Emma could see it for what it was: nervousness.

Then Emma finally caught a clue. "You're saying you chickened out?" she asked in wonder.

Regina's mouth twisted in distaste. She sighed. "In a manner of speaking."

"Well either you did or didn't." Emma was grinning now.

Brown eyes snapped back up again and she huffed. "Fine. I 'chickened out'. I had some legitimate reservations as to how you would ... react to my arrival."

Emma thought about that. She had to admit it took guts to just rock up after 18 months in front of the woman whose life she had nuked to the very core. And vice versa.

"So what changed?" she asked curiously.

"Not _what_ so much as _who_."

Emma was intrigued. "Huh?"

"I had brunch with Kathryn yesterday morning. She picked me up and drove me to Granny's and chattered on and on about some dribble about seizing the day and that was all that mattered. She suddenly declared she hoped I wouldn't be "too angry" with her. I had no idea what she meant. Since she found love she has been making less sense," Regina rolled her eyes dramatically. "So I merely assumed it was her usual hormonally-driven nonsense.

"But when she dropped me off again I found Henry and Dr Hopper waiting by my car. Henry very earnestly handed me my suitcase and said they would wait for me to pack it. They had already packed food and drinks and maps and other essentials.

"Dr Hopper passed me my car keys and told me he and Matt had already made a spare bed up and would be looking after Henry and if I didn't go now, I'd always regret it. So ... I went upstairs and packed ... and drove to Boston. And here we are."

Emma was gaping at her. "Henry and Archie and Kathryn all just teamed up to get you here? With me?"

Regina eyed her solemnly. "Yes. They did. And I suspect they had other accomplices."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

Regina looked down. "David," she began. "I strongly suspect he owns the laser printer Henry printed the maps off of. Ruby, based on the distinctive cherry pie packed - I know it wasn't on the menu at Granny's yesterday so it was made for me. And, uh ..." she lowered her voice to a mumble. "Miss Blanchard. I recognized her thermos in the food basket."

Emma's mouth fell open. "Mary Margaret? No shit? How do you feel about that?"

Regina shrugged uncomfortably. "Coffee was quite good I suppose."

"That is not what I meant. You have hated her forever."

A strange look crossed the mayor's face and Emma gaped at her. "You DO still hate her, right? You sided with Kathryn over the affair..."

"We have a complicated relationship, Emma. I doubt that will ever change. But you haven't been to Storybrooke for a while. A lot of things are different now." Regina shifted on the couch uncomfortably and looked as if she wished Emma would change the subject.

It made the blonde start to wonder what on earth was going on. Two things she knew about Storybrooke that seemed immutable: Its mayor was smoking hot. And its mayor hated Emma's ex roommate with all the fire of a sun going supernova.

Emma shook her head. _And even that was just the tip of the iceberg._ Henry was now in cahoots with his "evil" mother who he barely spoke to - or so she'd thought. Prickly loner Regina Mills was now having some sort of regular lunch with an actual friend who wasn't on her payroll. And Archie? Regina had called him the worst names when Emma had last been in Storybrooke. "A monument to quackery. Unfit to hold his fake licence," she had snarled one night, pacing the room.

 _Whatever that actually meant._ The blonde had never bothered to pick it apart - she'd been too busy marvelling at how sexy the mayor was when strutting around angry.

"OK, then just answer me one thing, because you never did before," Emma said in confusion, rubbing her temples. "What the hell happened to you? Who ARE you?"

The brunette laughed. "Regina Mills," she said with a deliberately sexy drawl. "Just the new and improved version. I told you I have been working on things. It turns out Dr Hopper isn't a complete fool afterall."

Emma digested that. "I don't even recognise you." Her eyes raked Regina's face, as if seeking a sign the woman she remembered still existed.

"I guess you wouldn't," Regina said after a beat. She frowned. "I hadn't really thought of that. But do you approve?"

There was a long silence as Emma bit her lip and debated.

"I am not sure how to answer that," she said, spreading her hands out in frustration. "All this wooing me or wowing me or whatever tonight has been about, it's being done by someone I don't actually know. You look the same, sure, and move the same and even smell the same, but you are nothing like the woman who banished me from Storybrooke and told me never to come back."

Regina sucked in a sip of air and looked shamefaced. "I really am sorry about that, dear."

"I know you are."

And Emma did know that. She could see it on her face. The new, improved, open-faced mayor. It was completely unsettling.

Regina watched her under hooded eyes. Waiting. She seemed to be holding her breath.

"Do I approve?" Emma repeated softly, thoughtfully. "Truthfully Regina? How can I answer? I don't even know you anymore."

Regina's face fell. "Oh. I see."

She looked away, devastation lining her features. A shaky hand rubbed her knee as if punishing it.

Emma placed her fingers on the trembling hand, leaning forward. "Hey," she said and waited until Regina's eyes had slid back to hers. "You didn't let me finish. But I think I would like to find out who you are. Starting with our drive back to Storybrooke. We have a lot to talk about."

The brunette's entire face changed. She didn't even bother trying to hide her reaction. Her words that followed were barely audible.

"I would like that very much."

A few beats passed. Emma tried not to let herself react to Regina's reaction. It would be too easy to just get swept away. Swept back. She glanced at the clock again. "I think probably some sleep is in order, if we're to have a road trip in a few hours," she said. "It's a bit of a drive. We're taking my Bug, right?"

"Over my dead body," Regina snarked. Emma bit back a snicker. _Some things never changed._

Regina's disbelieving eyebrows now climbed to impossible heights. "Besides," the mayor continued, "how would I get my car home? At least you can take a rental back. And look at the bright side, dear, my Mercedes comes with a functioning motor, actual heating and soft leather seats. And we both know you like your leather."

Emma smiled. "No more than you like looking at me in it."

"You flatter yourself," Regina said indifferently. But her eyes twinkled.

"Yeah, right," Emma said for lack of anything clever to add. She looked around. "You can crash on the couch if you want. So we can get an early start?"

Regina looked at her archly. "I may be 'improved', dear, but I have my limits." She pointed at a dodgy sofa spring that was pressing up hard against the upholstery, causing an unsightly bulge. "I suspect I would not survive the night unmutilated."

"Oh yeah," Emma looked faintly embarrassed. "Forgot about that." Her eyes suddenly flicked to the bed she could see through the ajar door of her bedroom.

Her brain almost exploded, as she wondered whether Regina expected her to offer to share. Regina gave a small smile at Emma's obvious panic, the blonde's thoughts clearly written all over her face, and shook her head.

"No dear, it's fine." She gave a casual wave. "I have a perfectly lovely five-star hotel my son picked out for me. And _paid for_ apparently. It seems his credit-card heisting abilities have not abated with time." She growled. "I will be grounding him for that particular endeavour when I get home."

She smiled suddenly to take the sting out of the threat, then rose, straightening her suit's wrinkles with an elegant flick of her fingers and headed for the door. "I will see you tomorrow then. At ... shall we say nine?"

Emma quickly scrabbled to her feet and met her there. "Sure, gives us a bit of decent shut-eye time first. Wedding's not till five, right?"

Regina nodded once. Then she hesitated for a microsecond. Emma saw it, though, and realised. _Oh, fuck. Yeah. End of date. At the door. Awkward kiss-or-not-to-kiss time._

Regina's eyes had flicked a measuring look at Emma's lips.

The blonde hesitated, transfixed by the sight of the brunette's own lips - they were parting and curving in a smile. Perfect white teeth. A hint of a pink tongue. Then the deep scarlet lips closed again.

It was like erotic torture.

"No," the blonde said firmly, pressing her mouth together in a thin line. "You can get that look out of your eye. There will be absolutely no goodnight kisses."

Her words would probably have carried more weight if Emma's hand, purely of its own accord, had not suddenly found itself on Regina's lapel and trailed its way delicately up towards her neck. Her other hand settled on Regina's waist, enjoying the warmth it found there. It squeezed, silently urging her to move closer. Their bellies and thighs collided as Regina obediently complied.

The mayor looked curiously at both questing hands and then back up to Emma. "As I understand it, we don't have to be this close not to kiss," she offered with a sardonic smile.

Emma growled. "Stop being a smart ass, Mayor Mills. And I mean it! Definitely no kissing." She gave Regina's lapel a light slap to punctuate.

"All right, Miss Swan," Regina replied agreeably and edged ever-so-slightly closer. "Absolutely no kissing. As you wish, dear."

"It's because I don't want to give you the wrong idea here," Emma whispered urgently, leaning forward a little more as well. "We left on really fucked-up terms. Not to mention that you broke my heart. I cried over you for months, damn it! I hated you. For what I gave up and what we went through and what we shared and how we pretended we didn't and how we left it. And for you saying we could never be friends. I hated that most of all. I really mourned you. I thought I would never see you ever again. So..."

She trailed out.

"I understand," the brunette murmured, and damn if she didn't look like she did. Emma gazed at her for a moment, taking in her intoxicating scent and dark brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to look right inside her, burning. She felt her heart skip a beat. It was hard to focus.

"And besides, it wouldn't be right to kiss someone who's like a complete stranger," Emma suddenly added, moving her lips closer. "That would be weird, right?" She asked the sliver of air between them.

"Yes," Regina muttered. "It would be." She moved closer.

Emma wasn't sure in the end who closed the gap but she remembered later only the glossy dark red lips hovering near hers were suddenly moving against her mouth. Then she lost herself in the sensation. She may have groaned. And then cursed inwardly at herself for doing so. And then moaned again.

 _Oh God_ was about all her mind squeezed out before flailing uselessly into white noise.

Regina's lips were like a pure aphrodisiac. She felt liquid heat course throughout her body and her nipples harden instantly, moisture rush to her core and, without thinking, her pelvis bucked against Regina's. She heard the other woman gasp and the sound seemed as loud as a gunshot in her ear.

She immediately pulled away, her breath coming in tight, anguished shudders.

That had been nothing like the last time they had both kissed - all angry and desperate and icy up against a wall in Regina's home office. Ferocity and fury in equal measure. Pain mixed with penance. This time ... Hell. Emma could not even put into words the difference. Random thoughts floated past her struggling synapses. Softness. Heat. Passion. Welcoming. And promises.

Regina's eyes were barely open but Emma could see their desire and feel waves of arousal coming from her. Regina licked her lips as if she'd tasted something especially delicious.

"Fuck!" Emma husked, green eyes now wide. It was all she could think to say, and she glanced accusingly at Regina's kiss-swollen lips as though they were the culprit in her complete and utter meltdown. Which of course they were.

 _That was so not supposed to have happened._ She dropped her head as though it were suddenly too heavy.

Regina's eyes finally fluttered fully open and her mouth curved into a slow, languid smile. "Fuck indeed," she smirked, dragging her index finger over Emma's lips to wipe away a lipstick smear.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Emma found herself saying. "Please, Regina. That was, I just ... it wasn't..."

Regina looked at her for a long moment before speaking. "Of course, dear," she said and took a step back. "It was what it was. It was simply a long time coming, hence our ... reactions."

Emma tried to calm her ragged breath. "We can't. Again I mean," she whispered. "I can't. It's not ... I ...this is not...I really can't. That was a mistake."

Her brain felt no longer capable of formulating words, let alone thoughts. Her body was buzzing, though, and she had never felt so at odds. Disparate. Split between heart and soul.

"No," Regina murmured with a heavy, fatalistic sigh. "I understand. That was ... it for us." She looked away abruptly when the blonde nodded gratefully.

"So, I will pick you up at nine." Regina straightened. It was her professional tone, her face slipping on a neutral mask. Emma had seen Regina treat her constituents to this distant voice and found it achingly lacking. She understood though. Regina gave a tight smile and didn't wait for a reply, just quietly unlocked the door and pulled it closed behind her.

Emma stared at it for a moment, as if unable to believe it had just swallowed up Regina Mills. Then she leaned heavily against it.

Her head was a mess. Her body was a mess of a different sort - on fire. Molten. Burning. She would need a fucking Arctic cold shower in a minute.

But only one thought was now racing through her mind: How in the hell was she going to survive a road trip with this woman?

She wasn't entirely sure how she had actually survived a kiss. She drew a hand shakily through her hair.

 _This could not be allowed to happen again. It was probably just inevitable because of all the tension built up between them. But it was done now._ Her head tilted back against the door with a painful thud. Emma barely noticed.

 _It was just a one-time lapse._ She narrowed her eyes and ran a finger absently over her tingling lips.

_And it would absolutely NOT happen again._


	34. STRICTLY BUSINESS

"Sure you've got enough snacks there, Miss Swan? I am certain your high-salt, high-fat, unhealthy food limit was surpassed three grocery bags ago."

Emma snorted as she inserted another bulging bag of snacks into the sleek Merc's boot.

"I can tell you're not an expert at the 'road trip experience'," Emma gave the words air quote marks and grinned. "But I am. And these things you mock are what we experts call The Essentials."

She almost laughed at the brunette's appalled expression and continued: "You will not want to be buying any of the crap sold at the gas stations along the way, because they are probably at least three months out of date, stale and have been soaking up gas fumes for a helluva lot longer than that."

She bent forward and shoved one of the bags to one side to squeeze more in.

"May I remind you, Miss Swan, that I did actually drive all the way here without needing to resort to absurd quantities of ..." she waved derisively, "this ... alleged food."

"That's only cos you had half of Storybrooke pack your lunch for you," Emma smirked. "Now come on, let's get the thermos on board. You think you've tasted bad coffee before? It's nothing compared to the sugary oil slicks on offer at some of the diners we'll be passing. I guarantee my brew will at least be an improvement."

Regina handed her Mary Margaret's refilled thermos and their hands touched briefly. Emma froze. She could not deny the effect the mayor's proximity had on her when she felt telltale tingles shoot up her hand. She noticed Regina's movements had also stilled. She quickly moved her hand away from her and curled it into a fist.

"Uh sorry. I'll just..." Emma backed away hurriedly and, for want of something else to do, looked around.

All bags were already packed.

She shoved her hands in her red jacket pockets and glanced back at Regina. The mayor was looking completely stunning in her so-called "casual" gear. She was rocking her tailored dark pants - what else - which were presently showing off one of her best assets as she bent over the boot. Emma's eyes paused on the view.

She also wore a figure-hugging designer white tee-shirt under a thick black coat. It snugly clung to her breasts, defining their shape and giving the blonde more than a few thoughts as to how they would feel to slip her fingers over. If she was interested in such things, which of course, she had sternly told herself repeatedly the night before, she was definitely not. Some lines should not be crossed again.

Regina finally stepped back from under the boot lid, closing it and pivoted, catching the blonde staring.

Emma immediately turned and stomped over to stand by the passenger door, her knee-high brown boots crunching on the gravel. "We ready then?" she asked self-consciously under the mayor's pointed stare.

The brunette gave a small smirk. "Well if by ready you mean do we have enough processed food to cater several arks, then yes, Miss Swan, we are ready."

Emma folded her arms and eyed her darkly.

Regina glanced at her as she strolled to the driver's side. She stopped and asked: "What?"

"Why are you back to calling me that? I thought we were beyond the 'Miss Swan' formalities. Especially after..."

"After?"

Emma blushed and dropped her head. "You know - last night?"

Regina assessed her for a long moment, then slid her designer sunglasses onto her nose. "Oh yes, dear, the 'mistake'. How could I forget?" She opened the door, her mouth set in a grim line.

Emma's mouth fell open. "I ... we..."

"A coherent thought sometime soon would be greatly appreciated," Regina noted and slid into her seat and closed the door with a firm slam. Not before Emma glimpsed an expression of hurt on her face.

The blonde frowned. She opened her own door and sunk into the seat. "Regina ... are you mad with me?" she asked, buckling her seatbelt.

"More with myself," the other woman sighed and adjusted the rear-vision mirror. Her eyes flicked briefly to Emma and then returned to the windscreen.

At Emma's questioning look she added: "Expectations or hopes generally tend to disappoint. But I always knew coming here that things, well, certain emotions or viewpoints might no longer be held ... the way they once were."

She started the engine. "So, for everyone's dignity, let's just keep everything ... strictly business.''

Emma drew her brow together, trying to understand what she was saying. " _I ..._ " She faded out when Regina shot her an impatient look and began to reverse out of the driveway. They swung onto the road and the brunette accelerated firmly away.

Emma sucked in a breath. "OK, if that's what you want... Is it?"

"It is, Miss Swan. And perhaps we should now move on from this particular topic? Spare everyone's blushes?"

The blonde shook her head. "How about we agree to postpone it? It's not really a great conversation for us after we've had only six hours' sleep."

"Two." Regina said moodily. She bit back a yawn, hidden by her hand.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Alright. The topic is hereby tabled." Regina declared as though closing a council meeting. She leaned forward and stabbed a few buttons on her dash. Classical music began to fill the car and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Seriously?" the blonde blurted. "Hours and hours of this shit ahead?"

"Handel is not shit, Miss Swan. What is your preference anyway? Barely legible rappers badmouthing women and boasting of boosting cars?"

Emma smirked and leaned over and punched a different button. "Why am I not shocked you hate rap? OK let's try this." Country music now filled the cabin and a look of horror crossed Regina's face.

"You _must_ be kidding," she gaped. Then gritted her teeth.

"Do I look like I am kidding?" Emma leaned back with a laid-back smile on her face and her fingers beginning to tap against the window sill.

"Well that explains why you dated the country-singing lawyer," Regina sniped. "You can share your mutual love of hearing slack-jawed yokels crooning about horses dying and wives leaving brutal husbands."

Emma snorted. "That is not what country songs are about. Well not most of them anyway. Usually it's about lost love and broken hearts. Something I know a lot about as it turns out."

Silence fell between them. Only the music and the road noise swirled around and Regina's jaw clenched.

"I thought this topic was being tabled, Miss Swan," she ground out icily.

"I was speaking generally," Emma lied and turned away. She watched small business and street signs blur by. Regina flicked her a disbelieving look which she saw clearly reflected in the window glass.

After three blocks, the mayor leaned forward and changed the station to an easy-listening format. Bruce Springsteen began to fill the car.

"A compromise?" Emma asked, her eyebrows rising in question.

"If you want to call it that."

The Boss sang on and Regina stopped talking and began focusing on negotiating the thickening traffic.

Emma gave it a few more minutes and then stretched over and changed the music back to classical. She leaned back with a plop against the dark leather seats.

"Here," she said. "Listen to your dead white guy music. I am going to catch up on a bit of sleep. And for the last time," she mumbled, angling her head against the window, "Shania isn't a country singer."

A small, sudden snort of laughter burst out of Regina startling them both. Emma gave a pleased smile as she closed her eyes.

The last words she heard before she dozed off were an acerbic retort. "Like you would know."


	35. ROCINANTE

It was the horrifically loud truck horn that woke her. Emma's eyes snapped open at the blare only to find an enormous black shadow filling the windscreen. Heading straight for them.

"Regina!'' she shouted, snapping her head to the left. The mayor seemed to jerk to life and yanked hard on the steering wheel as the heavy mechanical whoosh rattled and battered the Merc. It came perilously close and then it was gone. A derisive second honk sounded as it receded into the distance.

The brunette leaned heavily on the brakes, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and pulled over to the wide verge.

For a moment all that could be heard was the low, patient idling of the engine and the hard breathing of two occupants.

"Close call," Emma muttered redundantly, blinking at the empty road in front of them. She glanced back over her shoulder. "Were you overtaking?"

The empty road yawned behind them. Not a speck in sight.

She swung back to the front and looked questioningly at Regina who simply shook her head.

Emma's eyes fell to the white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Still holding on tight.

"So how'd we get on the wrong side of the road?" she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Black ice?"

Another dazed head shake.

Emma leaned over and, one by one, peeled Regina's clenched white fingers off the steering wheel.

"You fell asleep didn't you," she stated gently, massaging the fingers back to a shade approximating pink.

Regina swallowed and turned, her face a mix of regret and guilt and worry.

"Yes," she whispered. "I believe so."

Emma eyed her without judgment and let go of her hands.

"Exactly how much sleep did you get last night?"

"Almost ... I think ... maybe two hours."

"Shit Regina! You should have said - I would have driven. Hell, I still will." She unbuckled her seatbelt and fumbled loudly for the door handle.

"No.''

The voice was quiet, ragged and dismayed.

Emma tilted her head. "No?" she asked askance.

"It's my vehicle, Miss Swan. You will not just take custody of it. Like everything else."

"Take custody of it? _What the hell?_ I just want us to get home safe and sound. In one piece. This isn't some cunning car heist."

Regina paused and regarded Emma closely. "Home?"

Emma bit her lip. "Ah. Well to Storybrooke. Your home."

"Hmm."

"Not my home," Emma babbled on.

" _Indeed_."

They stared at each other for a beat.

"Why only two hours?" Emma finally asked for want of anything else to say.

Regina grimaced. "Why do you think?" she asked with a tightly-knitted scowl. "You really want to ask me that now? I am tired and irritable and almost got us both killed - and you AGREED we'd tabled this!"

Emma head snapped back at the outburst. "Shit, Regina, calm down. And what do you mean we tabled this? Your lack of sleep is because of what we ... um ... cos of _last night_?"

The mayor rolled her eyes. "Are you seriously _this_ dense? Because I am failing to understand what I see in you right now." She pouted in a way Emma could only describe as endearing and then turned to face the side window. Her shoulders slumped.

The blonde's lips twitched in spite of herself. "I know. I am an acquired taste," she said gently. "I don't know what you see in me either. I'm like, um, Chicken and Waffle Chips."

Regina retorted into the glass: "Those cannot possibly be a real thing."

"You doubt me? Fine. Let's check out the junk in your trunk."

The brunette's head snapped back, her mouth dropping open. She glared at Emma.

"Shit, that came out seriously weird and, um, kind of really sexual," Emma blurted, appalled. "I mean I packed that brand of chips. They're in with the beer nuts and Cheetos. Next to the Twix and M&Ms..."

She faded out. "S-sorry. Rambling."

"Yes Miss Swan. You are. We don't need an inventory of all the processed diabetic-comas-in-a-bag you packed."

They both fell silent and turned to stare out the front windscreen at the open road, a black snake endlessly winding into the distance. Regina turned off the ignition and sighed heavily.

"Want me to drive then?" Emma asked quietly. "I promise to respect the black beast is entirely yours at all times and give it back to you at the first pit stop once you've had a nice refreshing power nap."

"Pit stop?"

"Well you must have planned for us to stop at some point for gas or, gee, I dunno, bathroom breaks."

"My Mercedes has excellent mileage and a large fuel tank. No stops are necessary."

"Um, well, that's great for the car. But what about the other thing?" Emma bit on a nail and then gazed at her from under her lashes.

"No stops are necessary," the mayor repeated.

"Regina, you are human. You're gonna want to get near a restroom at some point in the next ...'' she glanced at her watch, "five and a bit hours."

"I do not intend for any part of my being to be anywhere near a restroom at one of those awful truck-stop dives," Regina stated with finality. "Filthy disease-ridden infestations." Her lips pulled back in an evil sneer.

Emma stared at her a little startled. "Are you seriously planning to just willpower away your biological urges? Is that how things work in your brain?"

"I will hold it in," Regina ground out firmly and looked completely appalled they were even discussing it.

Emma laughed out loud at her look of determination. "OK, fine. But don't expect ME to cop that." She opened the car door.

"Where are you going?" the brunette demanded, looking around.

The blonde jerked her thumb to a thick stand of trees not far away. "Doing what comes naturally, seeing you are planning to deny me the basics for the rest of this trip."

Regina pursed her lips and bit back whatever she was going to say. "Fine. Just hurry up," she muttered and pointedly turned to face the opposite direction. "We haven't got all day."

When Emma got back, still buttoning up her jeans, she saw Regina was outside the car and had the coffee thermos out and was about to take a long sip.

"Oh no you don't," she said snatching it from Regina's hands. The mayor gave an outraged squeak. "That's mine - as I am driving now, and you are officially in napping mode."

"I did not agree to that, Miss Swan." She narrowed her eyes.

"True. But think about this - if you kill us both by falling asleep again, who looks after Henry?"

Regina paled and grimly handed the coffee over to Emma. Her voice dropped to a low growl: "I cannot believe you'd play the Henry card. That was most devious."

Emma shrugged and held out her hand. "Whatever works." She waited. After a moment car keys plopped in it.

"Just try to stay on our side of the road," Regina muttered and then had the good grace to look a little sheepish. "Well, more so than I did," she added. A reluctant smile teased around the corners of her lips.

Emma grinned back and took a deep swallow of the coffee. "I promise to look after your baby. Say, what's her name?"

"What?"

"Surely you named your car. Everyone cool does."

Regina snorted. "Well what's that revolting yellow deathtrap called, dear? Roadkill? Rust Bucket? Carmageddon?"

"Oh ha-fucking-ha, Regina," Emma snickered. She straightened. "It's called Bug. Obviously."

" _Original_."

"I know. _So?_ "

Regina huffed at the perceived imposition before finally clearing her throat and offering a name.

"Rocinante."

Emma's eyebrows lifted.

"Named after my most beloved horse, who was also dark and sleek and powerful." Regina leaned against the car door and a faraway look crossed her face.

Emma fell silent and watched the strange, distant expression curiously. She took another swallow of coffee. She tried to think of something else to say. Something relevant.

"That reminds me - Henry tells me you go horse riding these days," Emma offered after a moment. "Is it just him and you?"

"No. I mainly ride alone now," Regina said and suddenly pursed her lips. "Although he comes with me on weekends."

"Why? I thought the purpose was for you and Henry to get on better? Some sort of therapy from the doc? Right?"

Another long silence fell and the brunette squinted into the sun.

"No, Miss Swan," she finally said. "I thought initially that was why. But it turns out that was not the reason after all. Now if you don't mind, can we get going? And try not to take out any street signs."

She opened the passenger door and slid inside. Emma followed suit on the driver's side, making a science out of adjusting the seat. She turned and grinned. "I make no promises."


	36. OF HORSES AND BEARS

Regina settled into the passenger seat and watched out of the corner of her eye as Emma adjusted her seat, fiddled with the side and rear mirrors and made another typically smart-ass retort. In other words, made herself completely at home.

_Well, she was true to form at least._

She closed her eyes and bit back her own smart retort.

The mayor knew she was exhausted. The moment her eyes fluttered shut she felt like she was mired in mud, being pulled deeper. It had been a mistake to drive in the first place on only two hours sleep. A mistake not to ask Emma to drive them. But she was hanging by a thread from the moment she got up. It was like if she gave away her last piece of power to the blonde, she would have nothing left. She knew it was the lack of sleep, but she was barely there.

She had been rapidly unravelling since the night before. A night spent tossing and turning. Getting up, trying to watch the hotel TV to induce sleepiness. Checking her texts. Having a hot drink. Returning to bed. Rising an hour later. Rinse and repeat. And all because of that kiss. _That kiss._

In all her life Regina had never almost come undone from a single press of soft lips. And yet she had felt the shivers of delight shoot up her the moment Emma's hand slid across the back of her neck and drew them close, pressing their mouths together.

That had been a thrilling realisation in its own right - that Emma had been the one to initiate it.

And then she had felt the flutter of lips, a brush of tongue, and heard the sensual moans from the other woman who bucked against her. It had been the most erotic experience of her life and she knew instantly that if the blonde had so much brushed the tips of her fingers across her most intimate place, she would have climaxed on the spot.

In light of what Emma had said next, she was profoundly glad the hand gently caressing her neck had not strayed anywhere below her collarbone.

_"That was a mistake."_

The four brutal words ricocheted through her brain for hours afterwards, slowly stripping the hope from her, withering her soul to a pathetic husk. If Emma had leaned over and stabbed her, Regina could not have been more shocked, more hurt.

She swallowed the rejection, the four horrible words, and hid her humiliation well. To hell she would show she was dying inside. _She was Regina Mills for God's sake. She didn't do pathetic displays like hormonal lovesick teenagers._

She left as soon as she could. Striding down the stairs, across to her car. Drove to the hotel quickly, thanks to minimal traffic on grey, wet roads at 3am, lit by blotchy street-light streaks. Headed straight to the comfortable king-sized hotel bed which held neither comfort nor sleep.

Today's gentle thrum and vibration of her Mercedes, however, had been vastly more soothing, lulling her to a peaceful place before she had even realised just how tired she was.

It had only been Emma's terrified shout that jolted her out of her doze.

Regina felt like a cliche when she saw the flashes of a life poorly lived. How cruel to be reminded of that tawdry business after so much effort to reinvent herself. After so much time spent fighting who she had been. She saw the evil deeds and wickedness, lined up like mocking black dominoes. She saw her emotionally crushed heart and her crushing others' hearts.

The pictured tilted. Down. And brightened. She saw Henry in her arms, and felt the slight shift in her chest. She remembered the puzzlement of that sensation as she stroked his fair hair and cupped his tiny face. She experienced again the emotions of falling in love with him, then slowly losing him, fading away like longer and longer shadows at dusk. And then came images of Emma. The blonde tresses and red jacket. Watchful eyes. She watched herself hating her. Tolerating her. Suffering horror at her hand. Hurting her. And hurting her. And hurting her. The big green eyes watching her in such pain. Then Regina watched the image shift. She was forgiving her.

Then forgiving herself.

Finally. Loving her.

The thought Emma was about to be snuffed out of existence due to Regina's own negligence brought a sharp taste of bile to the back of her throat and as she heaved on the steering wheel, her only thought was an internal scream: "Don't you DARE die!"

And for once in her ornery, contrary life, Emma Swan obeyed her.

Regina sat there, at the side of the road, shell shocked, as Emma calmly performed something akin to a close-call autopsy.

Her brain was in a daze. Her heart was thumping wildly. She couldn't seem to move the fingers stuck on the steering wheel. They felt like someone else's.

And Emma casually asked whether she had been overtaking. Curiously. Like did Regina enjoy roasted pumpkin?

 _Did the woman not understand she had almost died? That she had almost lost her?_ Regina had stared.

She shut her eyes, squeezed out the thoughts hammering at her from every direction. They had almost died. And she just ... Couldn't. Handle. That.

The rush of adrenalin finally fizzled out and a wave of exhaustion took over.

She fell back on her usual sarcastic banter. It was almost too easy. She was like the rhythmic drum section to Emma's percussion. It was how they played together.

She wondered if the blonde could see her hands were now trembling in her lap. She remembered the warmth of the blonde carefully removing them from the steering wheel and placing them there, and she had to bite her tongue not to beg her to hold them a little while longer. That she was a rattled mess. And would she mind?

When Emma finally exited the car for the stand of trees, Regina rubbed her eyes viciously, daring them to leak and unmask her pathetic weakness. She scolded herself.

 _So much for new and improved._ Hell. She was a goddamned wreck.

This could not stand. She needed coffee, she decided, and flung open the door. She rose on shaky legs and made her way to the boot.

But then Emma Swan, striding up with her stupid sexy swagger, denied her even that. Although, all things considered, she couldn't exactly blame her.

Deprived of her coffee hit, Regina felt weary and completely washed out. And she knew she was beyond arguing. She reluctantly balled up her keys and dropped them in Emma's outstretched hand, relieved not to see triumphalism in her eyes. Instead - just straight-up relief. Well OK then. She could live with that.

Now, with her eyes fluttering open and shut, glimpsing Emma pull smoothly away from the road verge, she realised she should stop fighting for control when she had none.

It was one of the lessons she learned the hard way from Hopper.

Her mind floated backwards.

* * *

"It's been a month but I still don't understand why you wanted me to ride alone," Regina began, folding her arms as she leaned against the frame of the doctor's office window. It had become her favourite spot during their twice-weekly sessions.

"Well why do you think I suggested riding in the first place?'' Archie asked, scribbling a rapid note and looking up.

Regina watched then pen move and eyed him suspiciously.

"No, that was not about my shopping," he answered her unspoken question. He gave a small grin.

She smiled briefly at their shared joke before answering seriously. "I thought I was riding to improve my relationship with Henry. Which is already improved, I might add."

"Regina," Archie said quietly, "It was never about that. I did want you to heal one thing though."

"Could you talk in even more riddles?" she huffed in irritation.

Archie looked sheepish and swallowed nervously. "Matt told me how outraged you got when he suggested horse therapy is good for troubled kids because it shows them how to accept and reciprocate unconditional love."

Regina's eyes narrowed.

"Henry has never been abused," Regina spat. "And I do not appreciate the implication. We've been over this. I told Matt that."

"I know," he said quietly.

"Then do try to get to the point, because I am failing to grasp it, Doctor."

"I felt you, not Henry, needed animal therapy more than almost anyone in Storybrooke. You have been treated cruelly, Regina. The time spent with horses was always supposed to be about you."

She felt her face contort in outrage. Is that how he saw her? Like some abused pathetic little creature? She frowned in dismay. Archie barrelled on.

"From losing the man you did love, to being forced to submit to a man you never ever wanted near you in that capacity - you have not had unconditional love for a lifetime. I know briefly with Henry it was there but we both know he also wilfully withdrew it. So I really wanted you to feel that again. It's very important for you.''

"You could have just told me that's what this was," Regina growled. "Why you felt the need to manipulate and treat me like..."

"Regina, are you saying that you would have simply agreed and gone along with it? That first day I mentioned the stables?"

The mayor turned back to the window. "Not the point. This was not OK," she muttered and waved a hand. She allowed a sarcastic edge to sharpen her tone to a razor's edge. "It would be nice to feel in charge of my destiny once in a while. Not someone else's pawn."

"You have been in charge of it all this time, Regina. For decades," Archie said in surprise. "You demonstrated your power to us all on a regular basis. Sleeping with our late Sheriff. Governing Storybrooke unopposed however you decreed. Playing games with Emma when she first arrived, trying to run her out of town. A powerless person would not attempt these things. And she would certainly not succeed."

"And look how well that worked out, trying to send Henry's birth-mother on her way when we first met. I never could control her. Not really."

"You mistake having choices with having absolute power," Archie suggested gently. "No one has that. Nor should they. It's corruptive."

Regina snorted even though the words settled on her uncomfortably.

"The more power you have," he added, "the more you seek. And the more you disdain and even fear that which you can't control, instead of accepting lack of control is sometimes just part of life. It's a vicious cycle. Yet all any of us really needs, deep down, is freedom to choose our destinies."

"My destiny was to run Emma out of town the first week she was here," Regina grumbled sourly.

"That was never your destiny, Regina," Archie said. "If it was meant to be, it would have happened. The problem is you continually confuse destiny with choice. They are quite opposite most of the time. I am curious as to why you feel powerless when as mayor you are anything but?"

She shrugged. "A lifetime of memories from a time long past."

"You do have free will now though."

"I thought I did."

"Until?"

"Emma Swan."

"And yet you ultimately did run her out of town. So you ... _won_. Your free will prevailed."

"No, that's just it," she sighed. "I never did. She chose to leave to spare me. She sacrificed herself. Fell nobly on her sword. Took it as a punishment. If she had really wanted to stay she would still be here. Really, doctor, her going was just a demonstration of HER free will. Not mine."

Archie eyed her. "Why did you ask her to go when you did?''

"You ask me that every session," Regina growled. "Aren't you tired of hearing the same words sliding off your tongue, dear?"

"Aren't you tired of not answering this particular question?" He smiled to take the edge off it.

Regina had already turned away. She watched the passing parade of cars (none yellow) snake their way up the main street. Her mind jumbled and shifted around. She wondered what Emma was doing now. Her heart tightened at the question and not for the first time she wondered why she still cared. Her hand, flat against the frame tightened into a hard fist.

"What are you thinking about?"

"What do you think?"

Archie smiled kindly. "I am guessing it's not about horses and healing."

"You would be right."

"Why did you ask her to leave? You could have done so the day she hurt you. The week after. The first month. The first three months. Why wait so long? Why then?"

Regina spun around. "Stop pushing me."

Archie tilted his head. "I thought this was why you were here? To get answers?"

"I am here to be fixed. Not grilled about things I cannot change no matter how much I wish I could."

A heavy silence fell between them. Archie scribbled more notes. The scratching noise filled the room.

"Don't forget to add laundry powder and Pongo's biscuits," Regina intoned drolly.

This time he ignored the obvious deflection and gave her a laser-hard look. "You wish you could undo what you did," he stated. "And you regret sending her away."

The brunette sighed. "Of course I do," she said crossly. "Henry made my life hell and half the town still won't speak to me. Ever tried governing a mute town, Doctor? It is not pleasant. Not to mention Ruby burns my lunch every time without fail."

"I thought you ate salad for lunch?"

Regina's eyes flashed darkly. "Metaphorically speaking." She worked her jaw. "It's her _attitude_."

"So you regret sending Emma away because it negatively affected your interactions with others? What about how you personally feel about her being gone?"

"She had her uses," Regina conceded with a brittle laugh. "Didn't need any sleeping pills. I hate these damned pills. When can I come off them anyway? This is getting absurd."

It was a rhetorical question - one she had asked him many times. She had tried repeatedly over the months to not use them and always the result was the same. Wide-eyed nights and sheets in a twisted, angry whirlpool by morning. And lots of fresh, bruising memories of a past life spent in hell.

"Was that her only use?"

"What do you mean?'' she asked silkily, her voice dropping dangerously. "You want to know if I was _fucking_ her?" Regina spat, eyes flashing. "I was most definitely not."

"Actually I was wondering whether you missed her companionship. I am curious as to why you thought I meant a sexual purpose, though. You have made this assumption more than once now."

Regina turned back to the window and gave a backhanded wave. "Fine," she said, biting the end of the word off. "I miss her. _Personally_. She was diverting to talk to late at night when I was ... unsettled. OK? Is that what you want to hear?"

Archie sucked in a breath and tried once more. "So why did you tell her to leave Storybrooke when you did? If you were at the point of enjoying her company?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because I was enjoying it TOO DAMNED MUCH," Regina spat back, irritated beyond reason at the question he had been pummelling her with for so long now. She instantly felt a horror shoot through her the moment she said the words out loud. "I..."

 _Shit_.

Archie was watching her, thoughtfully chewing the lid on his pen and Regina rubbed her temple. "I... that's not... It's just she wanted more from me. And part of me ..." she swallowed. "Part of me was not opposed. And that could not be tolerated." She ground her back molars together.

"Why does it bother you so much to have found common ground with Emma? And maybe even desire more from her?"

"You do realise she was my _rapist_ , dear?" Regina hissed. "There is a world of wrong with finding friendship with such a person. Do you remember what I said the day you found me in that pathetic quivering heap at the bottom of my staircase? There is NO excuse for rape. And if I try to find one for Emma Swan, if I try to let her in, why not all of them? I may as well be excusing Leopold. I may as well kiss his ugly, bristly face and embrace the domineering bastard. _Like all is forgiven_."

And there it was.

Regina and Archie locked eyes and the mayor hesitated. Her voice choked briefly before it came out gruff and raw. "I-I don't want to forgive him," she whispered harshly. "EVER. If I forgive her, I'm forgiving HIM aren't I? And I am not ready to... I don't ever want to NOT hate him. He deserves to be hated forever. I hope the bastard fries in Hell."

"Regina," Archie said after a beat, "You are not giving a free pass to the man who callously violated you by responding to the kindness and friendship shown by the one who never meant to. They are very different things. Intent is everything."

The mayor stared at him. She said flatly: "You think I can still hate the bastard and yet forgive her." The thought had never entered her mind before. It had never even swum close enough to the surface for her to consider it consciously. It was as foreign a concept as she had ever heard.

And then Hopper managed to surpass it.

"Of course," he nodded. "And, if you are ready, you can do more than just forgive her if you would like."

Regina eyed him disbelievingly. She shook her head, looking at the man like he had a toaster on his head. _This was nuts. How could... It could never... Too much._

"I think this session is over," she said painfully and strode out without another word.

* * *

When Regina next opened her eyes she realised the car wasn't moving. Emma had pulled up at some sort of road-side stall.

The brunette squinted at the hand-painted purple and red sign. "Maine maple syrup, honeys, jams."

 _Oh for god's sake_ , she muttered, eyeing the blonde bent over, apparently discussing a purchase with a stall holder. The tight jeans stretched over her firm ass, and Regina found herself momentarily distracted. She leaned on the power-window button and was disgruntled when it didn't budge. _Of course, damn engine was off._

She opened the door a crack. _This was going to be a long trip if Emma felt the urge to tourist her way the whole route back to Storybrooke._ And frankly Regina had neither the stomach nor the bladder for it. She was good but not that good.

She was about to call the blonde back when a shadow appeared by her door, a gnarled face bent forward filling the window. Regina couldn't help but recoil in surprise. Then she made out a black-shrouded elderly woman staring at her hard. Grey hair exploded from her skull like an Einstein caricature. She looked like some mourning Sicilian widow from a Depression-era historical print.

"Momma, come back here," called a pained masculine voice from the direction of the stall. "Stop scaring off the customers."

The ancient woman did not budge but stared at her with cold brown eyes and waggled her finger. "I am watching you," she said in a reed-thin voice that held just a hint of menace. "Blackness turned grey. You think no one sees? I see you. Soon will come the bear."

Regina's eyebrows lifted. "Bear?" she drawled disbelievingly as the ample, crumpled form spun her bulk around and began to shamble back to the stall.

The woman heard her word and arced her head back. The finger waggled at her again. "First you'll see its claw," she eyed her knowingly. "That is the omen it nears. Then the bear. And it will attack, daughter of the dark, you mark me on this, because your black side attracts the beast. And you will encourage the beast to draw near. For that is your true nature."

The mayor glared at her and the woman's face folded into a toothless smile completely devoid of warmth. Regina was fairly sure she'd met dessicated resurrected crones with more charm.

"Sorry, ma'am, it's just my mother," a man's anxious voice called out. "She says stuff like that sometimes. Don't mind her. Don't take it to heart or nothing."

The man, in his fifties, wearing a brown leather apron with a front pouch took a step forward from behind the stall's trestle tables lined with jars. He appeared friendly enough but his brown eyes were filled with embarrassment. There was little doubt his finger-waggling doomsday mother was a habitual offender.

Emma leaned her head outside the make-shift wooden stall to as if to see what the commotion was and her eye fell on Regina. Her face lit up in a smile. The mayor wondered if she even realised she was doing it. She was clutching several fruit preserves and a small bottle of brown syrup. Maple probably. Regina had a burning urge to roll her eyes at the homey haul, but resisted.

"Hey, you're awake," the blonde called over to the car. "Great. Which do you think Mary Margaret would prefer?" She waggled the jars and the mayor shook her head.

 _Seriously?_ Regina felt like she was in the Twilight Zone. "Miss Swan can we get moving sometime before Archie and Matt return from their honeymoon? I really don't think Miss Blanchard will care. It's the thought that counts," she added the last bit in a pained parody of a Hallmark card she thought she read somewhere. Brunching with Kathryn and being required to pop out cheesy motivational lines on cue was finally proving useful.

"Oh right," Emma said, taking the input at face value and turning back.

The crone was clearly not quite done and poked her head out of the stall and began eyeballing her again. "The bear will attack and it will be powerful!" she declared with certainty.

"Momma, enough!"

"But when the blood washes away, you will all see the truth. Grey is white is grey." She nodded and then started to shuffle away. She seemed finished at last.

Regina felt an odd chill pass through her. Seers, the good ones at least, she knew sometimes left a passing residue after a reading. _But that was ridiculous_ , she told herself, _they were in a land without magic_. She shook her head. _All nonsense._

"OK Momma, this way." The man shooed his mother to the back of the structure and waved at Regina. "Shit, sorry about that. She thinks she sees dead people, too." He laughed self-consciously but did not look amused.

Regina sighed and shut her car door firmly. She could see Emma was nearly done.

As if on cue the blonde jogged back holding a bunch of preserves and then popped the trunk. "Couldn't decide so got one of each," she said with a wide smile.

There was a gentle clang of glass on glass, more rummaging noises and then the trunk slammed shut.

The driver's door opened and Emma flopped inside and faced her with an easy grin. "What was the crazy old bat on about?"

"Apparently I am to be attacked by a bear, dear," Regina said ruefully. "How nice for us."

Emma laughed. "OK, then. Good to know. Oh wait, there aren't really any bears in these parts though, right?" She slid anxious eyes over to the mayor.

"No Miss Swan, there most definitely are not."

"Good, just checking. Right let's get this show on the road."

"Fine. And, Miss Swan, no more stops unless it's an emergency. And if you spot a bear, do accelerate."

"Yup," Emma chuckled and started the engine, peeling away with a lot more zeal than Regina would have liked. "Tire tracks across bears. Check. Oh by the way can you pass me the M&Ms. I like to munch and drive."

"Of course you do," Regina sighed and handed her the bag. "God forbid we should observe structured meal times."

"And you thought you wouldn't get into the road trip spirit," Emma smirked. "Oh whoops. SHIT. That's probably gonna be a bastard to clean up, right?"

Regina looked at the rainbow spray of mini chocolates now liberally seeded throughout the car. Her face and mood both dropped. Emma was flicking stricken eyes in her direction while trying to hold her driving line. Her fingers flicked out every now and then to catch any stray chocolates she spotted.

The mayor reviewed the situation as a trio of M&Ms rolled towards her across the dash. Old Regina would have found so many choice words to describe the calamity in her beloved car that Emma's ears would now be bleeding from the vitriol.

Instead she gritted her teeth and shut her eyes.

"I am now officially in denial, Miss Swan. The next time I wake up, I expect to see a clean car and the sign 'Welcome to Storybrooke'."

She didn't wait for an answer and, as they rounded a corner, also deigned not to feel chocolate treats bounce across her thighs and whiz past her ear.

 _New and improved_ , she muttered inwardly. _New and improved._


	37. BILL'S EATS AND FUEL

Regina's eyes fluttered open when she felt the bump. A speed hump, her brain supplied helpfully, as she realised Emma was turning in to what had to be the world's gaudiest truck stop. They crunched over gravel patches and clumps of tar and eventually squeaked to a halt. Regina frowned. That mess would stick to the tires.

"Really?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes awake. "You had to submit the outside of my car to an equivalent destruction to what you inflicted on the inside?"

Even as she said it, Regina realised she could see no coloured candies beyond a few at her feet. How Emma had managed to drive and pluck flying M&Ms from every surface and crevice was beyond her. She tried to visualise it but failed.

"And I thought I said no stops till Storybrooke," she added petulantly. Her tongue felt furry, and she realised she hadn't had a drink in hours.

"Sorry Regina, that coffee went right through me. And 'sides I have to make a call. My cell's dead. Didn't charge it last night."

The brunette's eyes fell to a garish enormous illuminated sign in pink and gray that said "Bill's Eats and Fuel". She muttered: "For God's sake, is the word 'Food' too hard to spell? What is this 'Eats' nonsense?"

She gave an appalled sigh then turned to look at the blonde as her words registered. "Who could you possibly have to call now that's so important it can't wait?"

"Mandy. She must be wondering where on earth I am. Last she heard I was going out with you last night. She must think you abducted me," Emma paused for a small grin. "Which, come to think of it, you kinda did."

Regina rolled her eyes and glanced out the window. A sandwich-board sign listing all the pastries and sweets on offer made her stomach turn: Maple donuts with bacon, raspberry cheese flips, donut holes, bear claws, cinnabuns, moon pies, elephant ears, whoopie pies, tiger tails and honeymooners. She hadn't even heard of half of them. She wondered if any contained ingredients beyond sugar, sugar and more sugar.

"Hey, you listening?" Emma leaned into her field of vision and waved a hand. She gave a chuckle. "Anyway I need to go to the bathroom, first. And don't worry," she added with a smug look, "not one tiny cell of your outraged body has to go anywhere near the inside of this place. I'll be as quick as I can."

Regina gave an acknowledging grunt as Emma opened the driver's door and headed towards the glass and concrete monstrosity that would never have looked in fashion even on the day it was built.

The mayor swallowed with difficulty and found she really was more than just a little thirsty. And, as end-of-times chic as the place looked, even they couldn't possibly screw up a refrigerated bottle of water.

She dug around for her purse then opened the passenger's door and stood swiftly. A cascade of hitherto hidden M&Ms bounced out of the folds of her clothes and she scowled. _Emma. Swan._

She shook herself to make sure all had bounced off her and followed her car's chocolate vandal inside.

A high-pitched buzz sounded as the auto-doors activated. _Well that would_ never _get annoying._

Ahead she saw Emma's face in profile light up at the sight of something in the pastry cabinet - _figures_ \- then talk briefly to the assistant, asking for the bathroom key.

Emma disappeared through the side doors to a small restaurant which presently housed a single family of four. They appeared to be a matching box-set of rotund, ruddy-cheeked examples of lethargic suburbia, eating hamburgers comprising about 300 per cent melted cheese. The red plastic chairs and unsightly plastic tablecloths they were using added to the general ambiance of artificiality and human decay.

She shuddered, feeling her arteries hardening at the sight of their greasy fare, and flicked her eyes back to where she was.

Assorted processed produce in bags, tins and boxes. A whirring ceiling fan coated in a thick layer of dust, made a low whupping noise like a helicopter coming to rest. Framed pictures lined the walls showing rows of hefty men in flannel shirts under caps with furry flaps, holding shotguns, kneeling in front of dead animals, grinning widely. Captions heralded their deeds with words like: "Bobbo takes a hundred pounder without getting out of his truck." The badly broken neck of one deer caught her attention, its glazed dull black eyes staring mournfully out of the picture.

 _Well, how positively family friendly_ , she mused.

The mayor finally spotted the drinks fridge and groaned at the newest annoyance. She began digging behind rows and rows of carbonated cans to dredge up a lone bottled water she had spied at the very back. Triumphant, she made her way to the front counter.

The man in his thirties looked bored beyond reason, as his eyes flicked between a small black-and-white security monitor to his left and the customer area in front of him.

She heard another door buzz and heavy footsteps behind her but ignored it and stepped forward to the counter.

"Just that then?" he asked flatly, noting the bottle she placed before her.

"Yes." Her eyes slid to the pastry cabinet beside him and spotted the one lonely bear claw nestled amid the fattening treats. She remembered the look on Emma's face. She'd bet her last cent that that hideous creation was what had captivated Emma's attention as she walked by.

She would probably regret this but... "Oh and that..." She began to point when the world's boredest service provider suddenly changed personality in one second. He swore animatedly, his face flushed and he jumped to his feet.

"Fucking kids! Little shits. _NOT AGAIN._ This time I'll nail the bastards," he bellowed and reached beneath the counter. An apologetic expression briefly crossed his face as he realised Regina was staring at him in confusion and annoyance. "Sorry ma'am. I'll be right back!"

He bolted, drawing a baseball bat into his hand, and then sprinted through the doors. A buzz sounded as he left.

Well. Regina cast her eyes to the security monitor, puzzled, then spotted a gang of four boys in their early teens tagging the door to a garage in large droopy sprayed lettering. As she watched, the server ran into the fray waving his bat comically and, if his face was anything to go by on the silent feed, shouting at the top of his lungs.

She smirked.

She felt a presence and a large shadow and turned. An oaf of a man in a flannel shirt was leaning past her to the cabinet to grab a pastry.

_And not just any pastry._

"Excuse ME," she snapped in irritation. "That is not yours. I was just about to buy it when the man ran out."

"Wrong. This is mine. I always get it, same time every day. Ask Frankie when he gets back from scaring off those fucking gutter punks."

Regina turned fully to assess him and straightened to full height. She took his measure. He was tall. Well over 6ft 5in. Wide. An ample gut strained the lower buttons on his stained blue-brown flannel. He had fat brown sideburns attaching to scruffy, greasy hair escaping from under a Wild Turkey cap. His stance was wide, as if taking up too much space was still not nearly enough. And his odour ... well, cheap cigarettes mixed with cheaper bourbon was the polite description. Regina's nose wrinkled and her eyes dropped.

It was his hands that she really noticed. Enormous, like slabs of beef, each one the size of a dinner plate. And his general demeanor? Well she recognised that very well. A typical bully. Used to getting his way by sheer dint of his size. No one had probably ever said no to him in his entire menacing life.

_Until now._

She dredged up an unbelievable amount of attitude and bared her teeth. "First in first served," she said in a dangerous, warning tone and took a menacing step towards him.

His mouth fell open in surprise, clearly expecting an immediate capitulation.

Regina smirked and pushed forward the advantage. "Or didn't your mother teach you that? I suppose you were you dragged up instead of raised?" She smiled, her coldest most menacing smile, one that could turn underlings from this world and the last into fearful puddles. Her eyes glittered darkly promising all manner of destruction. Her chest rose and fell; her fingers flexing into fists and releasing. Repeating.

The bully's eyes began to blink rapidly and she watched as his nostrils flared. _He definitely had not expected this._

She waited for his next move. Anyone who knew anything about her knew now was the moment to back down or suffer an unholy reign of ...

"What did you say, you bitch?"

Oh shit.

Then she remembered: This man did not know her. Did not know what she was capable of. But she was committed now. She would not allow some creature to take what he wanted just because he thought he could. He might not know he was dealing with but she knew. _She was Regina Fucking Mills thank you very much. And she did not back down._

She dropped her voice till the man had to strain to hear.

"I understand if you are having comprehension difficulties dear, it must be hard thanks to your limited intellectual prowess and disadvantaged background."

She smiled sweetly and knew he understand her all too well. He looked about ready to self-immolate.

"Did you just fucking insult my family?" His eyes narrowed into nasty slits.

"If you have to ask...," she drawled, mocking him. She tilted her head pityingly. "And to be clear: Yes, dear, I most certainly did."

For a moment there was the sound of the large man's laboured breathing.

"You think I won't hurt you cos you're a _girl_?" he snarled and he gave a nasty laugh. "That never stopped me 'playing' a little with my last two wives."

"Why am I not surprised you like to pummel the fairer sex?" Regina asked with a disdainful sneer. "Your mother must be so proud. Want to know something which may come as profoundly shocking to a creature like you?" She dropped her voice to pure undiluted menace. "I am not afraid of you."

The man lifted his hand and showed Regina the bear claw he was still clutching. He tightened his grip on it and crushed it effortlessly between his fingers. Then he leaned forward and, with the flat of one hand, dragged the squishy remnants straight down her white tee-shirt, from chest to waist. And he smiled.

Regina's hand flashed up, gathered the meaty wrist which had just dropped to his side in a bone-crushing grip and twisted. VICIOUSLY. It elicited an animalistic howl of pain and the man's other hand lashed out blindly.

Regina ducked the blow easily but never saw the return path of the motion. His fist impacted the side of her head like a cement pole. The brunette let out a huff of anguished breath and dropped to her knees instantly, dazed. She let go of his wrist. The man instantly grabbed hers instead, squeezing with building pressure.

"That's more like it," he spat as Regina stared groggily up at him, his waist now level with her eyes. "Right where uppity whores like you belong."

And that's when she saw it. The silver flashing and twinkling in the harsh fluorescent lights. It was now at eye level - the decorative buckle on his belt.

An image of a grizzly bear.

 _Oh for God's sake_ , her slow brain muttered, finally supplying all the pieces. She would have rolled her eyes if she knew it wouldn't hurt.

Before she could wonder at the impossibility of seers in a land without magic, his meaty hand lashed out, from out of nowhere, and gave her a powerful slap that made her ears ring with pain. She saw spots.

_Fuck!_

She tried to twist away but the oaf was still holding her wrist.

Blood dripped down her shirt - from her nose she guessed - and Regina wondered if she had somehow let out a scream when she heard an anguished cry.

And then she heard it again - a female voice, but most definitely not her own.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!''

Regina's world slowed down and she turned her head to watch in utter astonishment as Emma Swan flew from the side doors at stunning speed and hurled herself at her attacker. One minute she was airborne, the next...

The impact of the flying rugby-style tackle sent the brute sprawling onto his back. The blonde landed on top of him and set upon him like a banshee, all elbows and knees and furious fists.

"OW! What the fuck!" a masculine voice roared. "Who the hell are you?"

Emma twisted to one side and delivered a crunching, somewhat sprawled out, uppercut to his chin followed by a sickeningly accurate elbow pile-driving directly into his crotch.

"YOU DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH THE WOMAN I LOVE, YOU DISGUSTING ASSHOLE!"

Regina's mouth dropped open in shock. She had already been rendered immobile by the man's dazing attack and now Emma's words ensured no muscle so much as twitched. She gaped. Emma _loved_ her?

His howl of outrage caused the sound of clattering implements and the family of four to run to the windowed restaurant doors, peering out. Four pasty white faces watched the carnage, one pudgy boy filming with his camera phone.

Emma leaped to her feet and began to edge away, deciding her next move.

The attacker, still groaning in agony, clapped one hand over his crotch while the other snapped out and grabbed Emma by the ankle. He tugged with a ferocious snap, toppling her over and then punched her solidly in the side of the face before she had even landed.

"OW! SHIT!" Emma growled and tried to twist back off him. He rolled them both over and pinned her down. His bruising weight was squeezing the air out of her as she feebly tried to scrabble and squirm.

Regina felt redness cross her eyes. She stared in fury. Her teeth bared. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she realised she could not remember the last time she felt such murderous rage.

With a strength she did not even know she possessed she burst forward, grabbed two fists of his shirt, bodily hauling him up and off Emma, and then used the momentum of his body weight to spin him until he flew hard against the wall. The wall shuddered under the enormous thwack.

He slumped down the wall. Everyone froze. The rise and fall of his chest was the only movement in the unnaturally stilled room.

Four sets of wide eyes blinked in unison from the restaurant door's window. An excited chatter began on the other side of that door.

Regina ignored them and scrabbled over to Emma who had now sat up and was catching her breath.

Their eyes locked and they stared for a moment, unsure what to say.

"I see you met my bear,'' Regina finally offered ruefully.

Emma choked on a laugh. "Shit it hurts to laugh." She flicked her eyes across the brunette. "You look like a mess. What the hell did he do to you?"

"He tried to take my bear claw, dear."

Regina's eyes twinkled and Emma eyed her uncertainly.

"You're joking."

"Quite serious."

"You don't even like bear claws. 'Pudgy processed fat parcels' you called them once."

"No I don't like them. But I know _you_ do."

There was a long silence and Regina's fingers slid up to Emma's bruised face. "Sorry he hurt you."

Emma smiled weakly. "Could say the same for you. You know your whole face is, like, blood and pastry smears right?" A questing finger slid down her face and Emma tucked a strand of brown hair behind Regina's ear.

The brunette imagined she did look a mess and sighed inwardly. But all she particularly cared about right now was right in front of her. She nudged Emma with her shoulder. "What about you? Rushing in here all heroically like you had the devil himself on your tail."

Emma looked. "You scared the fucking crap out of me. _Like seriously._ All I saw was that asshole bent over you and I saw red. I just remember screaming at him."

"So I heard," Regina said with a tiny smile, wondering if Emma realised what she had declared to all of Bill's Eats and Fuel at the top of her lungs.

Emma reddened.

 _Ah_ , Regina thought. _So she did._

A buzz sounded and footsteps scampered in.

"Oh my God! What the hell! I left y'all alone for three minutes!" The squeak of the serving assistant took the edge off the tension. It was almost funny, his hysteria.

Then came his shocked gasp. "What'd you do to Grylls?"

"Grylls?" Regina asked. "That can't be his real name."

"No," the man said rushing over and rolling the supine body into the recovery position. "It's a joke name. Short for Bear Grylls. Cos he likes to shoot bears so much. Real name is Dave."

"Bears?" Emma queried. She snapped her head over to Regina. "You said there weren't any. For real I mean."

"Well I meant on our direct route home. I hadn't counted on the human variety. And there are definitely none in Storybrooke. I made sure of that."

"Do I want to know how?"

"No," Regina said, looking at her nails. Blood was under them and she frowned. "I think we should get cleaned up and get moving. We are on a deadline after all."

She sat up, wincing, and Emma mirrored her actions, wobbling as she got to her knees. She put an arm around Regina's waist for support and pulled them both upright.

"I'm afraid that's not really possible," the shop attendant interrupted, frowning darkly. "I am calling the police. An assault of some sort has clearly taken place."

He reached for the phone.

"You want to detain two defenseless women for hurting that huge bastard who attacked us?" Regina growled.

"I don't particularly care how this happened," the man said as he dialled. "This is procedure. And we can sort out who did what to whoever when the cops get here."

"We have a wedding to attend," Regina interrupted.

"I don't care if you ladies have a duet to perform for the President's inauguration. You will stay here till this is sorted. Hear me? Now if it will make you more comfortable, I have a room out the back in the staff area where you can get cleaned up and change and wait for the authorities. But that is as good as my offer gets."

Regina eyed him, humphing softly in annoyance, but secretly a little impressed that he was neither as spineless nor hopeless as she had originally written him off as. She could hear the man now reporting the assault in the background.

"No, we can't go on the run, Regina," Emma announced as Regina turned to her, as if reading her mind. "And we can still make it to the wedding on time if the cops don't drag their feet getting here. 'Sides, this dude has security cameras everywhere," she added eyes flicking to the corners of the room and pointing. "Not like we won't be able to prove what Grylls or Dave or whatever he calls himself did and who started it."

Regina's lips pursed.

Emma blinked for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "Oh whoa, Regina, please tell me HE started it? _Please?_ "

Regina pulled a face. "Of course he did." She paused. "Although he might ... somewhat ... disagree."

Emma's expression became pained.

The brunette threw her hands up. "Look, I merely exercised my consumer rights in objecting when he stole the pastry I was planning on purchasing for you. I may have insulted him once or twice." Emma lifted her eyebrow disbelievingly. "Or thrice," Regina amended. "But he, well he definitely threw the first punch. Um, right after I pincer-twisted his wrist. Which was right after he had run bear claw down my shirt."

"Oh god," Emma groaned. "You really are..."

Regina tilted her head curiously. "Yes dear?"

Emma bit her lip. "One of a kind."

"Thank you, dear."

"I did not meant it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

Regina offered her most endearing smile and eyed Emma from under her lashes.

The blonde's face quirked, as if trying to hide a grin.

"Maybe," Emma conceded and then folded her arms. "You are impossible." With a sterner tone, she added: "You are definitely a handful."

"No doubt about it," Regina concurred with a twitch of her lips. "So - shall we go get cleaned up?"


	38. CLEAN UP ON AISLE THREE

Emma's eyes flicked around the small but functional staff room they had been pointed to by the attendant, Frankie. A small kitchenette sat in one corner, complete with microwave, toaster oven, a tiny sink and a compact bar fridge. She peered inside searching for ice. Nothing but a few Cokes and a bag of reeking curried egg sandwiches. Frankie's lunch most likely. She recoiled, closed the fridge and turned.

A cheap, lacquered, white round table holding dog-eared copies of last month's gossip magazines dominated the middle of the room. Two unmatched plastic chairs were pulled up under it. A low, short sofa was rammed against one painted-brick wall, in green and dark brown stripes. It was tattered, its edges held together by grey duct tape and smelt faintly of sweat and something else. Something worse.

Emma's nose wrinkled in distaste.

She spotted another door at the end of the room and strode over to peer inside. To her surprise the entire room, which contained only a toilet, was gleaming. _Well OK then._ Frankie clearly had high bathroom standards, even if his taste in sandwiches was sorely lacking.

She heard a sound and turned to see Regina. The mayor's lip curled ever-so-slightly as she took in the room. Emma strode quickly back to her side, slipping an arm around her waist and easing her onto a chair at the table. Regina looked like she was strongly debating batting her hand away and telling her she wasn't helpless. Instead the older woman bit her lip, wincing slightly and went along with the fussing.

"OK, relax a sec, and I will find something to get the blood off you," Emma ordered and turned back to the kitchen area.

After a fruitless search for cloths, she eventually returned with a bowl of water, a soap dispenser and a roll of paper towels.

"Right, let's find Storybrooke's infamous mayor under all this muck," Emma muttered softly, dipping some towels in the warmed, soapy water and squeezing tight. "Tilt your head back."

Regina hesitated for a moment - clearly unused to ceding control of proceedings to anyone, but finally relented. Her head arched back into the crook of Emma's left arm, the beautiful, vulnerable curve of her neck was on display to the blonde. Emma could not help feel a shot of tenderness at that moment rocket through her. That Regina would trust her like this - given she trusted no one. It was ... unexpected.

Emma was determined to be as gentle as possible. She trailed the wet paper down Regina's face, wiping away the blood and pastry splatters. She tossed the towel into a nearby bin and then repeated the action with a fresh paper towel. She slipped her fingers and towel across Regina's forehead and watched as the lines there relaxed.

She heard a soft noise. It might have been a gasp or a sigh.

"Am I hurting you? I didn't mean to."

"No," Regina whispered. "You're not."

And, for just a heartbeat, Emma froze, realising her question might be taken two ways. "I am glad," she finally decided, earning a small smile.

She began the more delicate operation of cleaning Regina's top lip. She reverently touched the scar she had always wondered about. Dried blood came away from under Regina's nose and the brunette gave a tiny flinch.

"Sorry," Emma said and bent closer. "That asshole really thumped you hard."

A reply was redundant so Regina just gave a small agreeing quirk of her lips. Emma finished the area and inspected the brunette's nose with the precision of a top surgeon. It seemed reddened but otherwise fine. The nosebleed had definitely stopped. Realising just how close she now was, she reared back and then reached for a new piece of towel to hide her embarrassment.

She patted the remaining moisture away from Regina's face and paused when she saw brown eyes studying her intently.

Emma sighed as she thought how close she'd come to losing the other woman. It irritated her all of a sudden.

"What were you thinking," she asked with a dark frown. "Taking on that man mountain over a stupid pastry?"

"I was thinking, Miss Swan, that _you_ very much like bear claws. There was only one. And he tried to steal it."

Emma considered that then pulled her hands away from Regina, scrunching the sodden towels into balls, throwing them into the bin. She turned back to grab the bowl and tip out the water in the sink. "You're crazy, you know that right?" she asked as she rinsed it.

Regina smirked. "So I've been told."

"This isn't funny, Regina." Emma took a few steps back to the table, and frowned at her. Then, without thinking, she ran her fingers through the brown hair so achingly near, to try and neaten it. She picked out a few flecks of pastry flakes.

"This is what I don't get: Unless you're holding out on being a black belt in karate or something, you are a politician. You sit behind a desk all day. You are not Jean freaking Claude Van Damme. And 99.99 per cent of women, and probably almost as many men, including the really big ones, would have backed down. So why not you? Shit Regina - it's like you have a death wish or something."

"Don't be absurd," the brunette said lazily. "I simply do not like bullies."

"That 'bully' could have killed you," Emma said shakily, staring down at her, eyes burning. "We _both_ know it. And yet you would take him on without a moment's concern. You do understand why this makes no sense?"

She stopped moving fingers through Regina's hair as she found a small lump on her skull. The other woman jerked away from the touch.

_Jesus, how hard did that asshole hit her?_

"Regina? You got battered and bloodied and, knowing you, you probably egged on the asshole, insulting him until it turned violent. Not that that makes him any less to blame. But tell me, am I wrong?"

At the brunette's telling silence Emma nodded and continued: "That's what I thought. So just tell me: Why did you - why DO you - have no fear?"

She genuinely could not understand it. It was perplexing.

The mayor pressed her lips together for a moment and her eyes briefly fluttered shut. "I ... simply never even thought about it."

Emma saw the truth in her eyes, along with something else, something quickly masked, before the eyelids briefly closed.

"What is it?" Emma pressed.

Regina's lips curled. "I suspect, dear, I am somewhat used to having everyone afraid of me," she explained and gave a sheepish bark of laughter. "I am the unchallenged authority in Storybrooke after all. I am used to having others back down."

Emma's lie detector pinged quietly and she suspected there was probably more to it than that.

She sighed. "OK, Regina Mills, now can you please get THIS into your hard head: Some of us are afraid FOR you, even if you aren't. And don't you DARE pull this crap ever again. I think I lost a year of my life seeing him menace you."

"Why, Miss Swan," Regina purred, eyes fixing on green. "Anyone would think you cared."

Emma narrowed her eyes and gave her a playful swat. "Shuddup," she growled. Her heart hammered when she remembered what she said - hell, shouted - to the entire truck stop. Her mouth had no censor button sometimes. It never did when she was scared out of her skin.

Regina's eyes warmed and she sat up and felt her own face, checking it. Her fingers then combed through her hair. Satisfied, she dropped them to her lap and announced: "Your turn."

Emma started. "What?"

"My dear, I was not the only one to feel that brutish bear's nasty little claws. You have also come away worse for wear."

The blonde blinked in surprise. And suddenly, hearing the words, she realised she was actually aching. She frowned and her face protested the motion instantly.

"Ow!" she said in astonishment and Regina smiled gently.

"That's what I thought," the mayor said, getting up. "Come on - have a seat."

Emma sat in the chair the mayor had just vacated and watched as she repeated what Emma had done. She dipped toweling into the bowl, squeezed and ran it over her face. Emma felt an instant shiver as the fingers ghosted her skin. She swallowed. The result of being cleaned was having an entirely different effect on her than it should. She squirmed uncomfortably.

"Sit still, Miss Swan. I can hardly take care of you if you're wriggling like Henry."

Emma froze, chastened, and tried not to react to the fiery trail searing across her skin with every pass of wet toweling.

She felt fingers now run through her hair, tugging the curls straight and she shut her eyes hastily. If she couldn't see the face hovering so close to hers, maybe...

A hand cupped her cheek. "Miss Swan?" a husky voice whispered. Low. Right beside her ear. "I am done."

Emma flicked her eyes open and discovered Regina was now inches from her. She licked her lips and shifted her gaze up to the amused brown pools watching her. It was like she knew somehow the effect she was having on her.

"T-thanks."

"It was all surface dirt. I think you mainly got blood off me. Which reminds me - I would really like to change." Her hand gestured at her shirt in displeasure.

Emma sat up straight and then leapt to her feet, curling her face awkwardly away from Regina's hand. "Well then I-I'll bring in your case."

"That won't actually help, Miss Swan. I don't wish to wear formal wear while we wait for the police, and that is all I have packed beyond this. I had anticipated being home before I needed any more casual clothing."

"OK," Emma nodded, thinking furiously, anxious to get some space between them. "I am sure I have something in my bag that will fit. Be right back."

She chose to ignore the sceptical eyebrow hike from the other woman, grabbed the Merc keys, and bolted.

As she closed the door and strode through the shop, she tried to get her breathing under control and her head back together. _For god's sake. She wasn't some hormonal teen. She should be able to get her face washed by someone without almost coming undone._

She passed Grylls sitting up groggily, and saw Frankie squatting in front of him and handing him a drink. She scowled and passed through the automatic doors, hearing the annoying buzz.

She popped the Merc's boot, grabbed her nearest bag and headed back inside. Grylls was trying to stand now and Frankie was telling him firmly to stay down. Fortunately the brute hadn't spotted her on either pass.

She closed the door of the staffroom behind her as she entered, then looked around in confusion.

No Regina.

A toilet suddenly flushed in one corner and Emma found herself smiling widely. So much for Miss Cast-Iron Bladder No Stops Are Necessary Mills. She dropped her bag on the floor and waited, arms crossed, until the door opened.

She gave the mayor a knowing smirk.

"Oh be quiet, Miss Swan," Regina said and rolled her eyes in annoyance, walking to the sink to wash her hands. "Yes, congratulations. You caught me. I'm human, too."

"Oh I am well aware," Emma retorted. "I've been saying that all along. I was just starting to wonder if you knew it, too."

Regina ignored her and patted her hands daintily dry on a paper towel. Finally she turned.

"So what hideous fashion eyesores have you in mind for me then?" she said, purposely changing the subject.

Emma snorted at the conversation shift and dropped to a crouch beside her bag. She undid the zip. "Tracksuit pants and tanktop?" she asked in amusement, and watched Regina's eyes scrape over the items in questions.

There was a condemning silence.

"Anything else?"

"Jeans? But they're kinda tight. Really, um," she swallowed, and flicked her eyes up over Regina's legs, " _seriously_ tight."

The mayor sighed. "Of course they are. God forbid you favour good circulation. Tracksuit pants it is then. At least tell me you have any color for the tanktop beyond white?"

"Nope," Emma disagreed cheerfully. "I am the Henry Ford of tanktops. Any color as long as it's white."

Regina pursed her lips as if expecting that. She dropped her coat over the chair and, without pausing, began to lift her blood-spattered designer T-shirt up her body.

Emma blinked in shock and then, a second too late, gave a small gasp and spun around to face the wall.

A white T-shirt landed beside Emma's bag.

"Miss Swan," came a teasing voice somewhat closer now. "Your shirt, if you don't mind?"

Emma shook her head to clear it and dropped to her knees like an anvil. She focused and found the tanktop and, without thinking, turned to pass it up to Regina.

_Oh hell._

_She was... magnificent._

Emma had seen her in sleepwear. Felt her curled around her as they woke. And she had seen glimpses of her bra that first, awful time.

But _this_. Regina's olive skin was set off deliciously against her lacy black bra that encased soft, generous swells. Emma faltered, her hand that had lifted halfway up to give her the shirt, dropping suddenly.

Redness rose up her neck when she realised Regina was standing, staring, hands on hips, waiting for the shirt. Emma thrust it at her inelegantly. "S-sorry."

"Quite all right, Miss Swan," the brunette said with a small smile. She dropped her voice an octave. "I have always rather liked to look myself."

Emma turned away, mortified at having been caught, and pulled out the grey tracksuit pants. She heard a rustle behind her as black pants dropped to the floor and a whispering noise as Regina stepped out of them.

"If you want to look again, I am _certain_ this view is even better."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut as if that could blot out her imagination. She shook her head and flicked her eyed open. She stared fixedly down at her bag, arranging and rearranging the same clothes, before zipping it up.

"I didn't mean to give you the wrong idea," Emma finally muttered. "Sorry. I just... ah, take the pants." She gestured in their general direction and waited, breath held.

She felt warmth as a hand snaked down, then heard the cotton pants being slid up Regina's sensual legs.

"It's safe to look now," came the ever-so-faintly mocking voice. "All modest once more."

Emma turned, wondering if this torturous moment would ever be over. Whatever she was about to say died on her lips.

She stared. To say Regina Mills looked incongruous was an understatement. It was like painting a moustache on the Mona Lisa to put the mayor's body into these sloppy clothes but somehow Mayor Mills had managed to pull the look off.

"You work out?" she blurted before she could stop herself, her eyes tracking to Regina's sleek, gently muscled biceps. They were... _hell_.

Regina laughed. "Is that seriously what you want to know right now?"

Emma gaped and finally shook her head yet again and closed her mouth, feeling foolish. "That just came out. And you're right. Your exercise habits are the least of what I want to know. In fact, it's time we had a talk. A real one."

Her voice firmed and she looked at the mayor seriously. All trace of hesitation gone.

Regina gathered up her soiled clothes, found a plastic bag and bundled them into it.

"Well then," she said, dropping the bag next to Emma's. She sat down and eyed her. "You're right. It is overdue. Let's talk."


	39. EMAIL FROM HENRY MILLS

Emma leaned forward suddenly, unzipping her bag again, rooting around carelessly. "We can charge and talk," she declared in answer to Regina's unspoken question. "I have to let Mandy know where I am before she starts putting out alerts for my kidnapping. And as amusing as that alert would probably be to read, especially the bit where she describes you, I think we've had enough drama for one day. Just need to juice up my phone a bit first."

She retrieved her cell-phone charger and stepped over to the kitchenette, flicking the toaster oven's plug out and plugging her own device in, then clicking in the phone. She returned to the table, slinking into the chair beside the mayor.

"Right then," she said.

The two women stared at each other for a moment.

"Uhh..." Emma muttered, feeling suddenly awkward. "Cops should take about an hour to get here given we're so far out of civilization, so we may as well get this ..." she waved a hand ... "talking business done while we have the time."

Regina gave a small smile and cleared her throat. "Where do you want to begin?" She steepled her fingers and then twisted them. Finally she flattened them on the white table.

Myriad questions shot through Emma's brain: _That day. Why you sent me away then. Why you wouldn't explain. How you've changed so much. Is the change real?_

_Can I ever trust you again?_

That last one was the million-dollar question.

She bit her lip for a moment.

"Let's just agree on one thing first," Emma offered.

Regina waited.

"Whatever we say here, now, we say the truth," the blonde continued. "No BS. All of it."

"OK," Regina said immediately. "The truth."

"You agreed too easily." Emma stared at her, the edges of her mouth pulling down in dismay.

" _What?"_

"How do I even know if I can trust your answers?"

"Well how on earth am I supposed to prove they're true?" Regina frowned and crossed her arms indignantly.

"I want to do a calibration. To see how honest you're going to be."

"You're questioning my honesty? Really Miss Swan…" Regina began.

"Nuh, uh, uh. No more pretty words or outraged glares. I want to see if you really are this new and improved version of yourself. Someone who won't hide the important stuff."

" _How_." Regina ground out the question as a statement, squared her jaw, lips pressed tightly together.

"All you have to do is answer one question honestly and then I will know how much you're willing to share." Emma leaned back in the chair and waited for the almost certain objection.

Regina stared at her. "One question?"

Emma nodded.

"Fine. What is it?"

Emma stared. _OK. Game on._

"Why did you take me dancing last night? You could have given me the wedding invitation over dinner. The dancing was completely irrelevant to anything."

Regina's face changed slowly and Emma realised the other woman had just worked out the dangers and layers of her question. It was an easy one to dismiss with a glib answer. Any other time, the mayor would have offered a smart remark or a flippant brush-off.

_This was not any other time._

Her eyebrows rose. "Miss Swan." She exhaled heavily.

Emma watched her anxiously and waited. She couldn't help bracing herself for the lying to begin. Leopards and spots came to mind.

Instead Regina gave one of her perfect toothy smiles and began: "Because there was a strong possibility you would not agree to come to Storybrooke with me I thought this might be the last time I saw you. So, truthfully Miss Swan, I wanted to have that feeling again of you in my arms. I wanted to replace my last memory of you shouting and crying against my door with one of you holding me. And me holding you."

Regina did not drop eye contact. In fact her eyes challenged her. "Honest enough for you, dear?" she added with a teasing drawl. She ran a shaky hand through her hair but otherwise gave no sign of embarrassment.

Emma stared in surprise. _That had been, well, incredibly honest._ "Yes," she said hoarsely. "Um, thanks."

She looked away, realising her heart had started thumping hard. This was turning out considerably more difficult than she had anticipated.

"I get a question, too."

Emma glanced up to see Regina staring at her with burning, determined eyes.

"Huh?"

"I would like to see where you stand on honesty, also. It is only fair, Miss Swan."

"Oh," Emma said and bit her lip. "OK, ask."

Regina hesitated for a moment and then stared at a spot in front of her on the table, thinking. She flicked her eyes up. "When you kissed me last night, later you said it had been a mistake. Did you really believe that?"

_Oh hell._

Emma watched Regina for a moment, saw the way her head tilted, as if she was hoping for something. Something that meant a lot to her.

"Yes," Emma admitted gently. "I did believe that. I still do."

She saw Regina flinch and a flash of anger and disappointment cross her face.

"So much for honesty! I can see this exercise of talking things through will be a waste of time." Her voice was dark with pain and hurt. She growled. "You felt it, too," Regina accused. "I know you did. And you just lied to my face."

Emma shook her head and spread her hands before her. "Regina you did not ask whether I _desired_ you. That is quite a different question than whether I think we're ready to do things together with our tongues that make me forget my own name."

Regina's head reared back in surprise. " _What?"_

"If this thing between us was _only_ about desire, you would never have left my office yesterday with any shirt buttons left on. And I strongly doubt my desk would have survived the experience. But Regina you didn't ask whether I _want_ you. You already know the answer after that kiss.

"But I also know the last time we tried to escalate things before we were ready, it ended up with us both messed up so badly we barely crawled away from it. Then I cried into my beer for 18 months. Surely we've both learnt from that clusterfuck?"

"I…you… what are you saying?" Regina asked, frowning as she tried to pick it apart. "That you never want to try again or you do but you don't want to rush into things?"

"I don't know," Emma sighed in frustration. She ran her fingers roughly through her hair. "Honestly, _I don't_. That's what I have been trying to figure out since the moment I opened my office door and found you poured into my visitor's chair like some decadent lesbian wet dream from a 1940s detective novel."

"Oh." Regina blinked in confusion.

"Yeah - Oh. Look, why don't we just forget about all this 'us' stuff for now. Nothing has to be figured out this minute. We were going to talk about the other business so let's just do that."

Regina stared for a beat and nodded. "All right. Let's talk."

Emma paused and studied the brunette. Getting started was the hard bit.

"OK... Did you know I got an email from Henry?" Emma began. "About you actually." She rubbed her thumb against the edge of the table distractedly. Her eye shifted back to Regina, who was watching her with an inscrutable expression. She stopped, a little afraid of open this particular Pandora's box.

Finally Regina broke the silence. "I thought, Miss Swan, you had instructed everyone to keep you in the dark as to my movements."

A slight coolness settled across the mayor's features.

Emma sucked in a breath. "Yeah I did say that."

Regina pursed her lips. "So, Henry defied your wishes. Was that a novelty for you?" she asked with just a hint of snark that revealed it still stung how Henry used to treat her.

Emma snorted. "Please he's _your_ kid, Regina - wilful, smart and incredibly strong-minded. He defies whoever he wants on a regular basis. Why would I be any different?"

Regina looked faintly offended for half a second and then finally shook her head and sighed. "Perhaps. So what did he say in his email? Was I 'being mean' to him?"

Curiousity filled her tone and she leaned closer.

Emma swallowed anxiously and captured brown eyes with green. "Henry said you had finally defeated the Leopold monster. You were able to sleep again, all night long, without nightmares or pills. And he thought I would want to know that." Emma paused and added quietly: "He was right."

There was a heavy silence and Emma could see the pain flitting around the edge of Regina's eyes as she relived something dark. The mayor took in a harsh inhalation of air and let it out with a shudder.

Guilt flooded the blonde for raising it but she knew this conversation was going to get worse before it got better.

Regina nodded uncomfortably but even that simple motion belied a world of pain. The brunette dropped her eyes, examining her hands again, fidgeting. She didn't - or couldn't - speak.

"I-I was really pleased for you Regina. I really was," Emma said, filling the void.. "I... it really had a massive impact on me."

She said it sincerely and hesitated. Regina's eyes flew up to meet hers.

Emma took a deep breath. All the truth. "I, uh, well the thing is - I cried my heart out."

She blushed hotly, suddenly wondering if it was too late to call this whole conversation off. It was probably one of the dumbest times and places ever to have a heart to heart. The problem was she didn't know if they'd get the chance later. Or if Regina would even be willing later.

Regina stared at her in surprise. "You cried?"

"I am so sorry you went through all that because of me," Emma pushed on. "If I could have endured that shit for you I would have. And, hey, seeing is believing, right? Watching you just drift off to sleep in the car today was pretty damn great." She grinned.

Regina's face twisted into a smirk. "It could have just been because you were with me. You know I could always sleep with you beside me."

"I didn't think of that," Emma gasped, her jaw dropping. "Oh! Is _that_ why?"

"No," the brunette said, her facing creasing into a small smile. "More likely it was to do with only having two hours sleep. But yes, Henry was right. The 'Leopold monster' is dead now."

She ground out the name with immense satisfaction and Emma found herself wondering yet again exactly who this bastard was and precisely what he had done to her. She only knew the snatches from what Regina called out at night.

"You want to know who he is." Regina stated flatly. Not really a question.

"I wouldn't have asked," Emma said quietly.

"I appreciate that. Can we leave it at the fact he was a very brutal ex that I had no choice but to have in my life and bed. He knew I hated being there. It was an arranged match courtesy of my mother who did not care how much I suffered or what I ... lost."

Emma exhaled. Well that explained a few things. Regina radiated sadness.

"You were young then?"

"Very."

The blonde shook her head. "I am so sorry you went through that."

"As am I."

"Is he still around? Cos, uh, you've seen me today, I've got some moves." Emma cracked her knuckles. She pitched her words lightly but there was a part of her who would cheerfully love to kick Leopold's groin in. If not his skull.

"My hero," Regina muttered slightly mockingly but her pleased brown eyes danced. And for once Emma felt she had said exactly the right thing. "Oh and dear? He is long dead."

"Good. Fucking asshole." She scowled.

"Indeed." Regina actually seemed amused at Emma's fury.

A new silence fell.

"How did you stop them? The nightmares I mean?"

Regina thought for a moment then finally whispered one word: "Archie."

* * *

 

STORYBROOKE PAST

"You felt helpless," Archie Hopper droned on. "Alone. Afraid."

Regina rolled her eyes. It was their fourth session trying to work on stopping the nightmares and the brunette was ready to toss the prying, maddening insect out of the window. He was relentless. But he was also her last best hope.

"Your point?"

"No one in that situation could have survived with their sanity intact without some coping method," the doctor said sympathetically. "And I believe you disassociated. Switched off your mind as it was happening. It was like you were outside your body, watching it happen to someone else."

Regina felt the shudder pass through her.

"Not at first," she disagreed. "I initially felt every awful moment."

"But later?"

"Later," she said flatly. "Yes."

"And in time you simply suppressed all of it beyond the basics."

She shrugged. "So it seems."

"Until Emma's attack. And it all came back."

"We've been over this doctor. And over and over. You know all this."

"I am explaining. It came back because you hid it from yourself and never dealt with it. And now we are dealing with it."

Regina chewed the inside of her cheek, wishing she had a fast-forward spell to whisk her through this clinical hell until she came out all healed and happy and fixed. Like a shiny new toy.

"How does any of this help me sleep?" she demanded.

"The more you articulate the form and actions of your abuser, the less a hold he has on you. He becomes no longer a formless nameless shadow. Conversely, the more you shy from it and suppress what happened, the larger the fear becomes. A fear so great even sleep offers no escape. In fact your sleep is where your subconscious mind can finally demand you deal with it."

Regina sighed. "This is a waste of time," she growled. She leapt out of the chair and stormed to her favourite spot by the window.

It was the same complaint she made every week.

"If you're making me relive this goddamned agony and it doesn't work, I swear I will ..."

"Are you really going to threaten me again, Madame Mayor? Because have you seen the size of my boyfriend?"

Regina's head whipped around to gape at the doctor. She couldn't entirely quash the small twitch of amusement she felt at his surprising attempt at levity. The audacity!

"Careful doctor, someone might accuse you of having a sense of humor."

"I think that's highly unlikely, Regina," he said. He hid his grin and began to polish his glasses. "Look, I know this is hard. I also know this technique has worked for many others in your situation." He looked at her so reasonably it was annoying.

Regina snorted. _Her situation._ Wives of monarchs suffering marital rape in Fairytale lands. Yes, a common enough problem. All four of them would have to set up a support group.

"Does Matt ever get tired of your oh-so-reasonable tone, dear?" Regina asked suddenly. "Must be very trying having to date you. Everything has to be talked out endlessly. Ad infinitum."

She smiled cockily, her eyes containing an icy chill.

"You're deflecting again. I know it's hard but, Regina, you can do this. We were up to the second night. Remember? You felt helpless and alone. Afraid. He came to your bed drunk."

 _Ughh. That image again._ She wished her mind could just delete it, like a plastic button on a keyboard.

Regina's hand curled into a fist as she stared outside. She could make out Kathryn walking down the street with Frederick. She looked, well ... deliriously happy. They both did. A pang went through her and she wondered what it would be like to do that. Just be free to be with someone you wanted to be with. Without any encumbrances or secrecy.

She had never once felt that.

Her mind shifted. To Emma. She scowled, wondering why the blonde had been making so many cameos in her head lately. She watched Frederick unselfconsciously tuck a hand in his girlfriend's and lean in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

Regina sighed.

Even if Emma had stayed in Storybrooke they would never have progressed to being an actual couple. It was unthinkable. Besides, the other woman would probably have run by now anyway without the mayor needing to give her the push. It was in her nature. Really, Regina had just hastened the inevitable. She had done them both a service.

_Right?_

"You're thinking of Emma Swan again."

She turned. "What makes you say that?" she growled, shooting him a warning look.

"Your back always tenses in a particular way. Do you want to talk about her yet? How you feel about her? I know you have a lot of conflicts to address."

Regina scowled darkly at him until he lost the hopeful expression and then she stalked back to her chair. She folded her hands precisely in her lap. "It was late," she repeated in an irritated voice. "I was alone. And I was afraid."

Archie Hopper watched her closely and began to scribble notes.

Her lip curled in fear and anger. "The bastard was very drunk. He began to shout..."

__

* * *

 

BILL'S EATS AND FUEL - PRESENT

"We talked a lot," Regina murmured and glanced away. Her eyes lost focus. "It took a long time to get it all out ... to diminish the memory of Leopold in my mind. So it didn't feel like I was being stabbed every single time I thought of what happened."

"It worked, though?"

"Eventually. Reliving it was..." she scowled. "Not pleasant. But I think I starved my demons of oxygen in the end. Or bored myself to death talking about them," she said with a wry smile. It fell away after a moment. "It took a long time," she repeated softly. "And then one day, when I tried to sleep without the pills, I found that I could."

Without thinking Emma's hand shot out across the table and gave Regina's a squeeze. She didn't speak. The brunette shot her a grateful look.

They sat in companionable silence for a bit until Emma remembered she had a somewhat vital call to make.

"One sec," Emma said rising and heading to the kitchenette. "Let me just text Mandy where we are. She must be going nuts."

She turned on the phone. Two seconds later the device began to vibrate and beep crazily in her hand.

Regina's eyebrows shot up.

Emma shook her head. "Wow. OK. So it seems she was." She read in silence for a moment, her face undergoing an array of emotions from amusement to a frown.

"Well, ah, she thinks you're either having your wicked way with me or wickedly doing away with me."

She tapped out a reply and hit send. "I hate to disappoint her on both counts." She grinned and caught Regina's eye.

"Only two options?" the brunette said lazily. "Really I am much more multi-skilled than that."

The phone vibrated again.

"She says she always knew you were trouble."

Regina waved a hand. "Please. I'm a pussy," she purred.

Emma suddenly felt her mouth go dry. Hearing that word come out of that mouth seemed faintly obscene. Regina's rich laugh at her shocked expression made it worse.

The phone beeped again and with relief Emma looked away from Regina.

"Ah, now Mandy is threatening you if you do anything to me."

Emma began tapping.

"What are you replying, dear?"

Emma flicked a glance at the brunette. "I wrote 'Too late'."

Surprise registered from the brunette and Emma glanced up when she realised how that sounded. "I meant you whisking me away here and our encounter with the bear-man. Obviously that's not nothing. What did you think I meant?"

Regina pulled a face. "Oh I had all sorts of delicious thoughts. Now put that thing down and come back to the table. It's time I hear the uncensored story of your adventures. We can come back to me later."

Emma dropped the phone on the counter, after putting it into silent mode, and returned to the seat facing Regina.

"I am not sure where to start. Do you want the tears, fears or beers?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"All of it."

"That's what I was afraid of."


	40. DROVE AND DROVE AND DROVE

"I saw you in my rear vision mirror as I drove away," Emma began, leaning her chin on her fist. "I wondered if you were making sure I left."

Regina didn't immediately react to the half joke with its tinge of bitterness. Finally she spoke. "I followed you, you know. A few minutes behind you. All the way to the border. To see if you'd turn back or deviate."

The "but you didn't" hung between them like pungent air freshener.

"Did you want me to?" Emma asked in surprise. "You were pretty damn clear in the text."

Regina bit her lip and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle out of her pants. "I wasn't doing a lot of thinking that day. I thought I wanted you to go. That it would solve everything. Make my head stop... all the things it was doing. Help us both. But I expected you to fight to stay, too. And when you didn't..."

Emma's eyes flashed. "I pleaded on your fucking steps, ON MY KNEES, for you to change your mind. I cried into your door and thumped it and BEGGED you. What part of that isn't fighting?"

Regina sighed. "I know that. But a part of me ... well. I still thought you might try to stay. Somehow. Defy me. One more time. I didn't think ... I didn't entirely expect you would just ...  _go_." Her voice faded out at the admission.

"You really didn't think I'd ...?'' Emma sputtered, anger tinging her voice. "After  _all_  we went through, you expected me to ignore your wishes once again?"

"I ..." Regina began. "Well," she spread her hands, "You were unpredictable. Yes, I thought you might."

"You had such a low regard for me?"

Silence fell between them again and Emma knew she looked as morose as she felt. Regina seemed about to argue with her conclusion then shook her head in resignation.

"We're getting off track," the brunette murmured. "You were going to tell me what happened after you crossed the line. How you ended up with your own bounty-hunting business."

Emma's eyes shifted to the mayor and regarded her for a beat. "Sure you want to know everything?"

Regina paused. "We both hit rock bottom in Storybrooke. What could you possibly say now that would make things worse than what we went through?"

"I may remind you of that sentence in a minute, Regina." Emma's mouth attempted a smirk but it twisted sadly. "But ... OK, you asked."

Regina nodded, eyes dark.

"I drove," Emma said with a frustrated puff of breath as she remembered. "And drove. And drove. At first I had no idea where I was going. The days seemed to run together.

"I went through every cheap one-hotel town there was. I would get plastered every night and crash on a different tacky budget-motel bedspread in the small hours. It was pretty much a blur for the first month. If I was lucky I'd pass out and wake up the next day with little memory of the night before and rinse and repeat. If I was unlucky, I couldn't sleep and would sit out on rusty balconies staring at the stars and curse your name.

"Sometimes - or so the front desk staff would tell me - I would get a little too, uh, merry for my own good. One night I may have dangled from a balcony at some crappy motor inn and sung a few songs from the top of my lungs."

She felt embarrassed remembering and cringed.

"I woke up one day in my room on the floor in wet clothes and reeking. The receptionist who insisted, with fairly colorful wording, it was time I moved on, said I had fallen into the pool below and nearly drowned. The cleaners hauled me out just in time and dumped me in my room.

"I remember thinking it was actually more than I deserved. So I just climbed into my car, still smelling like soggy chlorinated cat, and kept on driving.

"I still had no plan, I just wanted to not have to think so much and driving was mind numbing.

"Sometimes I'd get texts or emails from Mary Margaret or Ruby or Henry. They all said the same thing: "Why?" and "Come home". Well Mary Margaret only said the last bit."

Emma's eyes flicked to Regina. "I'm sorry but I think she knew all of it in the end. Pretty sure she guessed."

Regina nodded, her lips thinning. "I believe so. She was far too understanding after you left."

Her face was so pained that Emma gave a small snort and rubbed her temples. Regina would  _hate_  having her former roomie's sympathy.

She continued her story.

"When I reached the outskirts of Boston, it was obvious my brain had given up waiting for me to do any kind of higher-order thinking and was just taking me back to the familiar. To what I knew. When I realised where I was, I figured maybe a routine was just what I needed after all the emotional chaos. I sure as hell knew by then that getting blind drunk every night wasn't achieving anything. All it achieved was that I felt like crap, 24/7.

"My funds were going down fast, despite only staying at flea pits and drinking rat-hole booze specials. So I decided to go back to my old boss."

* * *

She closed her eyes. The memories came flooding back. It had been the first day of feeling maybe, just maybe, she had a plan. Something encroaching hope had begun curling around the edges of her consciousness. Not enough to cheer her up, but enough to have her front up in freshly laundromat-cleaned jeans and tank-top.

She had actually smiled as she entered her old workplace building. Nostalgia was a powerful thing. She'd done alright here. Bob had been a good guy. Well fair to her, at least. He never pawed her or hit on her and usually respected her abilities - although his personal hygiene may have left a bit to be desired. Especially in summer.

She could still smell the tinge of sweat that would coat his office like cologne.

So she felt almost-hope as she walked up to the battered brown door, pushed it in and saw a whole new business there instead. Accounting firm.

"May I help you ma'am," came a chirpy woman's voice from behind her.

She spun around to see an impossibly small woman in a 1960s floral blouse staring at her expectantly.

"I ... um, where's Bob's Bailsmen gone? Where's Bob?"

The woman pursed her garish red lips. "Bankrupt. Downturn got him. You'd have to ask my boss if you want to know more. Personally you'd think he'd have had more criminals on his hands than ever in hard times, but apparently his best bounty hunter just up and disappeared. Some woman just shot through and left him one night."

Emma swallowed.  _Well shit, she didn't realize she was that pivotal to anyone.  
_

"Know where he went?"

The woman turned and leaned into a glass office behind her. "Hey Joe, whatever happened to Bob?"

"Who?" came a bellow back.

"The bounty hunter feller. The bald guy who sweated everywhere. You're in his office for Christ's sake."

"Knave Investigations took him on."

"Thanks." She turned back. "Knave Investigations. Anything else I can..."

Emma had already left, jaw firmed, striding away.  _Knave. Those assholes. World's snakiest skankiest firm._  No way in hell would she end up there. She had crossed paths with more than one of their charming employees on jobs and there was no underhanded move they wouldn't try, nor sleazy pickup line they wouldn't attempt on her.

She'd sooner shovel shit.  _And frankly, she already had._

She tried to pretend she wasn't disappointed as she stalked back to her far-too-cheefully-yellow car and slammed the door. She started it up after a moment and floored it, heading for her old drinking hole.  _Booze always made everything better_ , she reasoned, with a snarl.  _Well, before it made it worse._

Emma paused in her story, wondering how much to reveal about what happened next. She flicked her eyes towards Regina's whose burned deep chocolate brown. "Continue," the mayor said in a low voice.

Emma licked her lips, and suddenly she was back in the seedy watering hole.

* * *

Sports memorabilia was everywhere around the walls. It came with a smell of dried booze. And dirty windows she could barely see out of. Blinds hadn't been cleaned in years. But it had decent music and prices to match.

She was sliding back a fourth beer when she saw her. Lean and beautiful, tall with wavy shoulder-length brown hair and a ready smile.

Emma's first thought had been instant:  _Regina Mills without the hangups._  And then she'd felt guilty about even thinking it and slugged back the rest of her beer.

She slid the now empty, sudsy glass onto the bar and looked anywhere else but at the beauty who was a foot away and closing. She felt rather than saw the woman slip onto the stool beside her.

"Hey sweetie, haven't seen you in here before."

That was the other thing about this particular drinking spot. It was a bit of a renowned pick-up joint. For people seeking "casual, discreet" encounters. Not entirely  _straight_  casual encounters, either. But it swung both ways. She had found it amusing to watch the mating sideshow when she'd lived in Boston before. Besides the beers really were cheap. She would often hang out here with her secretary, whose smart-alec lines could make anything better.

She slid her eyes to the posters of WNBA players lining the walls and wondered if she could deal with a new complication right now. Her first day back in Boston. Jobless. Homeless. Now this.

"Pussy got your tongue?" The stranger asked, dripping with innuendo. She was clearly laughing at her and Emma, head buzzing pleasantly after four beers, wondered if maybe she should just take the free fuck for what it was and stop overthinking everything.

It had been months and months since she'd had sex. She'd lost track. She screwed up her face for a moment trying to recall who and where and when. She sure as hell didn't count what she'd done with Regina that day. Or  _to_  her, to be precise. So, probably over a year, then. Maybe more.

Her eyes languidly perused the flirt beside her. Well hell. She wore a sharp, sexy businesswoman's pantsuit. How very ... mayoral. Emma licked her lips. Maybe something mindless and empty would be just the thing to forget the person so completely overpowering her senses that she thought of little else.

So she smiled, her even white teeth splitting her face, transforming it into beauty, although the deadness never left her eyes.

The woman matched her with a wide smirk of her own.

* * *

The next day she woke up in a tangle of limbs. Naked. Muscles strained. A few new bruises. (Hickey-sized.) She frowned as she stared at them, tracing them with questing fingers. And she had a thumping head.

"Wait a minute," Regina interrupted. "You had sex with a stranger a month after you left town? You forgot me so fast?" She bored eyes into her, laced with disapproval.

Emma took in Regina's outraged face and laughed mirthlessly. "Forgot YOU?  _If only_ ," she muttered. "Regina, you asked me to tell you everything. I am. And the reason I slept with her is not because I forgot you so easily but that I couldn't get you out of my head. I could just pretend with her and it was OK. None of the other shit had happened and you and I were just..."

She waved her hand. "Together. In my mind at least. But when I woke up she wasn't you. Nothing like it. And if I thought  _we_  were complex, I was about to find out just how NOT you she was."

Regina's eyebrow lifted, sceptically. "Go on," she insisted.

Emma swallowed. "OK so right then her girlfriend of four years came home. She'd apparently been away on assignment or something for ages and ages, and now there she was - all large as life and butch as hell and suddenly towering over us in the bedroom, strutting and screaming about cheating and God knows what else and throwing things. I was trying to get my pants on and avoid projectiles and the girl I had been with was just laughing. Loving it. Like she'd planned it - planned to get caught. Loving the jealousy.

"At some point, some of the objects she was tossing around hit a few walls, and the screaming must have gotten the attention of the neighbors because next thing I know the police are bursting in. By then I had my clothes on at least. But the crazy girlfriend had decided it'd be smart to wave the kitchen knife at me."

Emma grimaced. "I felt like I was trapped in a really fucking bad soap opera. It was surreal. One moment everyone was screaming, and knives were drawn and the next everything was real quiet. The couple were hissing insults at each other. The sergeant takes in the whole scene, gives the jealous girlfriend an evil stinky eye and she suddenly drops the knife and looks guilty as all hell and backs away. He barks at her not to move and then he suddenly goes out to make a call. I put on my boots while he's gone. When he comes back a minute later he asks to talk to me in private outside.

"He wants to know how disposed I'd be to NOT press charges."

Emma shrugged. "I just wanted outta there anyway. Not like I planned to ever see any of those crazies again. He asked for my details, my phone number and what I did for a living, and I told him. Then he suggested I be on my way and tell no one what happened. I didn't care, so I said "sure", and I bolted."

"Next day my phone rings. Boston PD wants me to come in for a job interview. They need a freelance bounty hunter to do some tracking work for them on a casual basis. Stuff involving work near the state border, that they don't have the resources to do themselves. They'd looked into me, rung my old boss and decided I was their 'ideal candidate'."

Emma shook her head, incredulously. "Ideal candidate? It was so fucking ridiculous. How did they know who my boss was? When the cop asked what company I worked for, I gave them the old place's name - before it went bust. So it was pretty unlikely they checked out anyone I knew. But I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I said yes.

"I was back on the job, and it felt good. Boston PD slung me a few bounty contracts here or there. Always way in the middle of nowhere but the pay was good. I'd been at it for four months and one day I got called in to the HQ to fill out some paperwork they said I'd 'overlooked' when I first began.

"When I read the papers, I realised it was all an elaborate scam. They didn't actually need me to do the work at all. I was really just being paid to shut the fuck up. The paperwork was a confidentiality agreement about what had happened that day. When I saw the name at the bottom of the form signing off on it, I knew it was time to leave.

"By that time, though, I had built up my contacts and knew I could make far more money working closer to the city on my own. I didn't sign anything. I just up and left. I printed up a few cards and left them with old clients and contacts. Later I got an office. Rented a basic place, nothing fancy - you saw it - just to get me out of my car. A few months after that, I found a temp secretary I could tolerate to take calls and stuff. She turned out to be a good operator and a great friend to me."

"Who was she?" Regina interjected.

"Who? My secretary? You met her."

"The crazy jealous girlfriend. Who the police mysteriously had no interest in prosecuting? You must have been curious."

Emma smiled and drummed her fingers on the table. "As a matter of fact I was. It didn't take much digging. She's the daughter of the Police Commissioner. And his job was up for re-election that year."

"Ah."

"Yep. Can you imagine the headlines? Knife-wielding police chief's daughter in tawdry lesbian sex scandal?"

Regina's lips pressed together, in what seemed awfully like jealousy.

"Associating with the very highest class of people I see, dear," the brunette mocked.

Emma glared at her. "I normally choose my partners a lot better than that. No entanglements. No married people. That only ends in tears, trust me. But you had me so messed up I forgot to even ask if she was with anyone."

Regina almost growled. "So you having sexual congress with the very first woman you met after leaving Storybrooke is now my fault?"

Emma looked at the floor. "Well a little, yeah. OK, no. Shit, alright, it was just really bad judgment while I had my beer goggles on and brain parked elsewhere."

"Were there others?"

"A couple," Emma replied uncomfortably. She looked down. "Same result though."

"What? Near-arrests? Scandalous lesbian trysts? News at Ten?"

"One-night stands, no emotions," Emma said with a scowl. "Just sex. It didn't change anything. I still dreamt about you. Still raged against you when I was awake. Always about you," she sighed. "Besides, after awhile they all started to just merge. By the time I dated a brunette politician in a navy power suit, it was so transparent even to me what I was doing that I stopped going out altogether. I hadn't dated in ages till..."

"That awful country singing lawyer looked nothing like me!" Regina interrupted, divining the end of the sentence.

"Yeah," Emma sighed. "She was my attempt to change my pattern and start over. And that worked out SO well. We didn't get past starters if you recall."

"Oh, I recall," Regina said, miffed. "So your time away from me was spent bounty-hunting and screwing? How lovely for you."

Emma sighed. "Regina - you asked; I told. Please don't pretend this is somehow shocking news to you. You threw ME away, remember? There were no promises made. The opposite in fact: You no longer wanted me. You couldn't stand the sight of me remember? Your exact words."

The mayor inhaled a shaky breath and eyed her for a moment. "I never saw it as that, you know,'' she corrected. "Throwing you away? I wanted us to have our best chances. We were destroying each other in that co-dependent mess we had. It was like mutually-assured destruction."

"Yet you decided all this on both our behalfs, without any of my input," Emma said with an indignant growl. "Can't you see you didn't have that right? That's what burns me even now. You just assume you do because you're the mayor, or the head bitch in charge or whatever, but when it comes to our ... whatever it was we had, Regina, you just decided. You fucking don't do 'equal' well."

"No," Regina agreed tiredly. "I don't. An equal relationship has always been a foreign concept to me. Quite. Alien." She folded her arms. "It is something I need much work on."

Emma's eyebrows lifted in shock. Whatever she had expected her to say, that was not it. "Uh..." She faltered.

Regina gave a small smile.

"You really are not the woman I left behind in Storybrooke, are you?" Emma asked wonderingly. "I mean ... you're...  _really_  different."

Regina tilted her head. "No, dear," she said and pinned her with a look directly in her eyes. "I am definitely not her. Nor would I ever wish to be her. She was miserable and hurt and broken."

Emma considered that thoughtfully. "Yeah," she finally said and gave a reassuring smile. "I was too."

They stared at each other and understanding passed between them. It was like ominous black rain clouds had parted and they could finally see each other for the first time amid the drizzle. Emma lifted her arm to Regina's. To comfort or seek comfort, she wasn't entirely sure.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, which made them jump, and then the door to the staff room flung open.

"Cops are here," Frankie announced, jerking his thumb behind him. "This way."

They could see a uniformed male and female police officer standing behind him so both women rose, walking briskly towards the door.

Emma froze. "Oh fuck," she hissed and took two steps backwards. "No, no, no."

Regina turned back to stare. "What is it?"

Emma felt the blood drain out of her face. She dropped her voice so only Regina could hear. "I hadn't realised she was still on the force,'' she whispered urgently. "You're about to meet the infamous daughter of Boston's Police Commissioner."


	41. FAT TROUT

Regina's eyes raked the imposing woman. Tall, dark and poised, her athletic body was taut and honed. Strong. The woman's restless eyes roamed the room, and she shifted impatiently under her pale steel-grey uniform, unbuttoned at the neck to show a white tee-shirt.

The mayor mused she seemed like a panther desperate to be unleashed to run down its prey. She'd felt like that once, in the years before the curse and Storybrooke's - and Henry's - domesticating influence.

She'd forgotten what a powerful, intimidating figure having so much energy and anger could generate. Like the bear she had grappled with earlier, Regina suspected this one had never met her match.

But then, she'd also never met Regina Mills before, either. When two alpha females battle, one crawls away with their ovaries in their purse. And she'd be damned if that would be her.

Regina's eyes took in the detail of the small sewn shield covering each uniformed bicep which suggested the Boston woman was now based in Skowhegan, Maine. She frowned and tried to dredge up what she knew about the place - which wasn't much. Middle of nowhere. Old. Historic. Small. Which explained why the officer looked like she would she was ready to jump out of her skin with restlessness. There was definitely a story there, and the mayor would guess it wasn't a happy one. A woman like that doesn't choose Skowhegan off her own bat.

Her eyes trailed up to closely cropped black hair and dark brown eyes that looked both bored and intense. Regina watched as impatient hands slid to trim hips and the cop adopted an alpha pose like she was born to it. She seemed all at once unafraid, under-utilised, and completely dangerous.

Little wonder then that her partner looked constantly jumpy. Regina's eyes flicked to him. He was younger, nervy, small-framed, bearing a computer-gamer's level of greyish pale skin, and sweating as though the walk from the patrol car had overtaxed him.

Regina could not imagine a more opposite pair. She wondered if the incongruous match-up was some amused local police chief's idea of a joke. Had Regina had the power she probably would have tried something similar to rile a certain annoying Deputy Sheriff back in the day. Her lips twitched in spite of herself as she pictured Emma on patrol with Leroy.

She was almost sorry she hadn't orchestrated it. But by then Graham had grown a spine. The usual wash of regret she had as she thought of him flooded her system and she forced herself to think of something else.

The panther's eyes were still roaming and Regina waited, curiously, for them to fall on Emma and recognise her. She needed to gauge just how big a problem they were about to have.

It did not take long.

Cursory brown eyes flicked onto green and were about to keep moving when they stopped suddenly and went back, the tall woman's face transforming from bored to incredulous. Then angry. A new expression flicked briefly across the officer's features before a mask of professional indifference dropped down.

 _Too late._  Regina smiled thinly. She had seen that particular look in the mirror for years: Vengeance. She knew it like a second scaly skin.

The male officer ran fingers through his hair once and then spoke.

"I'm Patrol Officer Simon J. Kennedy and this is Patrol Officer Nene Jackson. We're here to investigate an assault complaint from a male person in his 30s, who goes by the name Grylls. Apparently you two female individuals are the alleged, uh, violent perpetrators." He anxiously glanced over to Emma and Regina, as if expecting a furious reaction.

Emma shifted her weight from one foot to another but said nothing. Regina merely watched the scene play out.

There was a heavy silence which was only punctuated by a low moan from further down the aisle - Grylls.

Frankie, clearly sensing the growing tension, suddenly decided to make himself scarce and mumbled something about manning the counter.

Officer Jackson stepped forward and physically imposed herself inside Emma's space, forcing the blonde to arc her neck back to look her in the eye.

 _Ah. Pissing contest then_ , Regina mused.  _And the woman was going on the offensive. So not easily cowed then._

Jackson took another step even closer to Emma.

Regina scowled, not liking the intimidation tactic on the blonde one bit - even if she used to employ it herself. (But that was different.)

"You," Jackson hissed, too low for the other officer to hear. But Regina heard it perfectly.

"Me," Emma replied in a matching, warning tone. "Look, do you really want to do this? Now? With the dirt I have on you?"

"What dirt?" Jackson spat out, "You have nothing. What's the worst that can happen anyway? I'll be shipped off to Skowhegan, Maine?"

Emma faltered and clamped her mouth shut again.

 _So much for blackmail._  Regina frowned, rethinking her strategy quickly.  _Definitely not easily cowed. And things were heading south fast._  She needed...

Jackson lifted her voice into a sharp, professional snap and turned to face the pasty officer chewing on his thumbnail a small distance away.

"Officer Kennedy, why don't you take the poor victim's testimony and I will ask these two  _ladies_  what they  _think_  happened."

The sentence contained an impressive amount of subtext, Regina noted - from the subtle inference they were unreliable witnesses and Grylls was somehow helpless and pathetic, to the less-than-subtle suggestion they were anything but ladies. It was a baiting technique Regina had often employed and she found her eyebrows lifting in surprise at how adept this stranger was at it.

 _So_ , she paused.  _Jackson was no amateur in the art of manipulation. And she was clever. Not to be underestimated._

Regina cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her.

"I just have to use the bathroom," she said easily, turning to leave, jostling Emma's hand as she did so.

In the unobtrusive motion she slipped the blonde's cell phone from her hand into her own and pocketed it, heading back to the staff room.

If Emma felt any surprise at fingers briefly entangling hers and her phone being mysteriously hijacked by the brunette, she gave no sign.

Regina sat at the table and set to work. They were damn lucky Emma had brought her phone inside. Hers was still in the car. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for as she opened the internet browser and typed in the words "Nene Jackson'' and "Boston police commissioner'' but Regina was a politician. And one thing she knew better than anyone else was finding an opponent's weakness and exploiting the hell out of it. And the other thing she knew was the internet was the receptical for everyone's trash. She just had to sift through it.

As she hunted, Regina contemplated Jackson. There was a woman who had nothing left to lose, had been deprived the right to face her enemy when she was professionally and privately censured and was now spoiling for a fight.

In two more taps she found herself at a page that profiled Boston's Police Commissioner, one Sheldon Emmett Jackson. Her eyes took in a photo of a well-dressed, handsome man in an extremely expensive suit waving to the crowd, hand on the shoulder of an older man. Her eyes slipped to the background and noted where he was.  _Interesting_. She continued reading and eventually a slow, cold smile crossed her features.

Well this was one viable path to pursue, for sure. But she wondered whether Nene Jackson could be manipulated another way, though. Her thermonuclear solution might not even be necessary. She tapped her lip thoughtfully for a moment and almost laughed at herself. She was getting weak. There was a time she would never consider the soft option. Now she was not only considering it, she was planning on trying it out.

She wondered what had changed? All those sessions with Archie? The whole of Storybrooke slowly thawing when it discovered its mayor was not the unfeeling dictator they had assumed? When she had revealed to them after a town meeting one day that she wanted to try and bring Emma back because the town needed its sheriff?

Actually, that was probably the moment. First Kathryn had rushed forward and hugged her impulsively on hearing the pronouncement. That had been galling enough. But then, when she hadn't ranted at the woman, an overwhelmed Ruby had taken courage and gone in for a brief, grateful hug as well. Then Henry -  _where had he even come from anyway?_  - flung himself joyfully at her. He was all elbows and shining bright eyes and toothy grin. And, to her horror, feeling him willingly in her arms again for the first time in years, tears began to slide down her cheeks before she could stop them. And that was when the sympathetic murmuring had sounded - a ripple through the crowd - hammering away at her so loudly she had wanted to scream at them all to shut up.

Finally Eugenia "Granny" Lucas had leaned over and whispered in her ear: "For god's sake, stop looking like it's your execution, Mayor Mills. THIS has to be better than the silent treatment they've all been giving you since Emma left. Try a smile. It'll work wonders."

And she had tried one - simply for lack of knowing what else to do. That had been the  _exact_  moment everything changed. It was the moment, to her dismay, she had irrevocably lost the authority she had always commanded through fear and intimidation. All washed away the moment she had offered them all that pained, pathetic, faintly watery and completely embarrassed half smile, with Henry still burrowed firmly into her waist.

She had gained something else, though. It was  _almost_  a friendship (although not anything quite so cloying) from people she had always kept at arm's length, some of whom she had actively despised. More like an opening. A small tree's worth of olive branches.

They had persisted with their overtures as the days rolled on. Small compliments that they were grateful for how well she kept the town running. Or asking how her day was. Regina simply hadn't known how to stop them battering away at her defenses with irritating attempts at kindness. At first she had ignored them. Then it got too much.

She had complained about them to Archie one day who hid his smile and said she was being simply welcomed into their hearts as one of them.

 _One of THEM?_ _She was a queen for God's sake. She'd never be one of them. And - hello - also evil?_

She had glowered at him, looking so utterly appalled that he actually laughed aloud this time. He took his glasses off and wiped them.

Finally he perched them back on his nose and explained: "I am not laughing at you, Regina. I am just glad so many people are at last seeing your best self, not what you imagine to be your worst self. And not what they had imagined you to be when their fear of you got the better of them."

"But I preferred them afraid of me," Regina had protested, throwing her hands up in disgust.

"Too late. They know you're human now!" Archie had actually beamed. "Fear is overrated, anyway. It is just an excuse to keep people away."

That had stymied her.  _Didn't she want people to stay away?_  She was no longer quite so sure. As if sensing her confusion and hesitance and gleefully exploiting it, the thawing of Storybrooke had continued - Regina utterly helpless to stop it.

It did have one positive though. Some mornings she would catch her son staring at her with an almost kind look on his face. As if deciding she wasn't all  _that_  evil. Making allowances - as much as he could for someone with such a linear, neatly boxed, good v bad view of the world.

"Is this the week you go and get Emma back?" he'd always ask hopefully, shoving spoonfuls of cereal in his mouth.

She'd shake her head, trying to ignore the fact he was getting milk and cornflakes everywhere, and explain she was still busy planning.

He would give her a sloppy grin and keep on chewing. She would try to memorise that look as she deftly wiped up the milky spatters, relieved to have him back. She'd give him a soft smile.

But when she'd had two failed attempts to leave for Boston, despite her best efforts at overcoming her anxiety, she wondered if she had lost him again. She feared he thought it was some trick all along. When he had begun withdrawing and becoming secretive, it felt like her worst fears were being realised. It turned out that that had been when her son had called in the big guns. A secret mission to get her to Boston. To Emma.

The entire drive to Boston she had fixated on how intensely she hated that Henry had involved quite so many people in the scheme.  _Especially_...

She sighed. Well. Relations between her and Mary Margaret had improved to the point she couldn't entirely sneer upon seeing her any longer. She no longer crossed the road when she saw her coming. She knew, in the end, it was because they had shared the periphery of something terrible - what Emma had gone through, and what Regina had endured.

Mary Margaret had lived parts of it, too, scorched by the comet's tail that tore through them all. She was one of very few people who knew all of it. Really knew Regina's hell and seemed to sense her regrets. She understood. It gave her a unique front-row perspective and Regina decided she simply could no longer be bothered being angry or humiliated about that anymore. She had to accept it.

Besides, they shared something else, too, which made them almost allies. (Although she'd rather rip her tongue out than admit it out loud.) A powerful desire to see Emma come back to Storybrooke. And to see her stay.

So the thaw had been on. And when Henry had clearly asked half of Storybrooke to help him get his mother to Boston to find Emma, they had apparently willingly all signed on.

As much as she hated it, the tactic had worked. There was no denying the results - the woman in question was now on the other side of the door, preparing to head back to Storybrooke with her.

Or she would be, if a certain officer hadn't shown up with vengeance on her mind.

Regina mentally gave herself a shake, appalled she had lapsed into a stroll down a past better forgotten when she was needed in the present. She quickly made her way to the door, and smoothed her outfit down.

Just before she turned the handle, Emma's phone beeped with an incoming email alert and Regina automatically glanced down, reading the short summary that flashed up on the home screen.

It was from Mandy, Emma's secretary. The mayor had quite enjoyed meeting the sociable woman, all frightful smells and inappropriate revelations, but who was also seriously entertaining and fiercely loyal under it all. The very opposite of bland, which had bored her about most people in Storybrooke for years. She read the message summary again and frowned.

After a moment's hesitation, she tapped the email to open it fully. Her mouth fell open and she stared for a full three minutes at what lay before her. Well...that was... She shook her head.

She quickly pocketed the phone and headed out to join the fray.

* * *

Emma had watched Regina leave with mounting dread. She was now left to the mercies of a woman who had threatened her with a kitchen knife when they'd last met, shortly after the blonde had apparently fucked the hell out of her girlfriend of four years. There was no nice way of papering over this from either side. But she was going to try.

"Well," Jackson began very softly. "We meet again. The little slut who stole my life."

Emma rammed her hands in her pockets and shrugged. "Not my intention," she muttered.

The officer growled and the hairs on the back of Emma's neck stood up.

"I'd hate to see what you accomplish when it  _is_  your intention," Jackson said. "I have been living in Outer Buttfuck, Maine thanks to you. The highlights are a bread-kneading festival and Maple Syrup Week."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Hey, no one made you throw a tantrum while waving a lethal weapon. Your change in living arrangements was all your doing."

A hand shot out at head height and impacted the wall with a slap right beside Emma's ear. "Screw. You. Bitch," she hissed very softly but the menace was clear. "I loved Kristy. And you cost me her. So I may not get to keep my old life, but Sugar, I sure as goddamn can make yours as unpleasant as possible right now."

 _Kristy_ , Emma thought.  _So that was her name._

"Oh Christ," the police officer muttered, "You didn't even know her name, did you? You broke us up, ruined my life, and didn't even know her name?"

Emma glanced down.  _All true._

"Look I never meant to come between anyone," Emma countered with a hint of apology. "She came on to me. I didn't even know she was taken."

"Did you bother to ask?"

Emma scowled. That had actually been one of her regrets that day.

The other woman's face twisted into an ugly mask, taking her silence for the correct answer.

"I'm sorry your life turned out so shitty," Emma tried again. "And dear old Daddy probably forced you to move states for the sake of god knows what he must have called it? Propriety? Character building? Protecting him from conservative voter backlash?"

Jackson winced and Emma realised she'd scored a direct hit. "But  _I_  didn't do any of that," she said flatly. "You did. And he did. And, while we're on the topic, Kristy did."

At the sound of her ex's name, the police woman's eyes flashed with fury.

"Fuck you," she ground out shakily, "and that pretty piece of ass you're with."

Emma's eyes narrowed and Jackson's expression lit up knowingly. "Oh I see, so she does mean something to you." She leaned closer. "I suppose I could get my own back if I borrowed her for a while. Even up the ledger."

Her voice was cruel, lewd; her intent nasty.

Emma forced herself not to react. She counted to ten then shook her head. "Seriously, Officer, you need to work on your evil monologuing," she smirked, "Cos that's some bad B-grade shit you are spouting there. The mayor would chew you up and spit you out for breakfast."

" _Mayor?_ "

Confusion and something darker flickered across Jackson's face and Emma realised the other woman hadn't a clue what Regina's job was. And now that she knew, it clearly meant something to her. There was something else going on that she couldn't put her finger on.

"Besides," Emma continued after a beat, "what makes you think we're together?"

Before she could answer, two things happened simultaneously. The door opened from the staff room and Grylls began shouting, his voice richocheting around the room, forcing the cop interviewing him to jump a foot back in alarm: "Those two FUCKING DYKES should be locked away! They're a GODDAMN MENACE. They attacked me with no warning, I shit you not."

"You were saying?" Jackson asked sweetly. "Even the stupid thug knows who you like to snack on."

Emma glowered and shook her head in vigorous denial as the officer laughed in her face, turning just as Regina stepped out of the back room. She was touching up her lipstick, and flicking her hair - doing a rather good impression of a vacuous party girl. Emma paused to stare. Or gape, would be more accurate.  _What the hell?_

"Oh geez, quite the Paris Hilton you bagged there," Jackson muttered to Emma under her breath. She leaned forward closer and whispered right in the blonde's ear. "Still I bet she's a tiger with her panties dangling around her ankles. The uptight ones always love it hard and dirty. I might just volunteer to show her some moves."

Emma had reached her limit of crassness. Her arm lashed out and would have gladly squeezed the other woman's throat if a restraining arm hadn't instantly latched on out of nowhere and pulled her back.

"Sorry about that, Officer," Regina drawled, eyes glittering, and lowered Emma's arm.

"Quite the hot-head you have there," Jackson said, inclining her head rudely towards Emma. She moved closer to Regina and offered her a stunning, evocative smile, that set Emma's teeth on edge. Jackson was actually seriously beautiful when she did that and the blonde was horrified when Regina returned it a second later with a perfect dazzler of her own.

Emma could not deny the jealousy crawling in her belly for a split second before she remembered where she'd seen that smile before. One part cheshire cat, one part promise of heady dreams. It was a politician's smile. She eyed the mayor curiously, wondering what game she was up to.

"Why don't we go and have a little chat in there, just the two of us?" Regina suggested, crooking an elegant finger to point to the door behind her. She was oozing pure charm. Campaign-mode Regina, Emma identified. She was irresistible. Riveting. Powerful. But so was Jackson - who also had a badge and the law on her side, and a very strong desire to see them locked up. Watching the two head bitches in charge have a charm-off was making her head pound. Fear rocketed through her veins. This could not end well.

"Regina..." Emma objected, warningly.

The brunette shot her a quelling look, turning back to Jackson, all smiles once more.

The police officer, however, cackled in delight at the apparent divide she could sense between them.

"Why of course, ma'am. After you."

* * *

Regina sat primly in her chair in the staff room and folded her hands on the table daintily. Step one in any new negotiation - make them underestimate you. The other woman had already dismissed her intellect for the simple act of preening. She had heard the Paris Hilton jibe. It was a clever trick she had picked up from her mother, actually.

"Miss Swan tells me you two have a ... troubled past," Regina began, eyes innocent.

Step two - seek information and elaboration. In their words.

"Your Miss Swan is a thief."

"Indeed she is," Regina agreed readily with a small smile. "Although she never stole something from me on the scale she took from you."

The other woman seemed disconcerted by this sudden common ground. She eyed Regina suspiciously.

The brunette leaned forward. "But right now, officer, I imagine you are in quite the bind."

"How do you figure, ma'am?" Jackson folded her arms, defensively.

"Well," Regina began, "Do you get revenge on Miss Swan for turning your life upside down? For stealing your girlfriend? But in doing so you side with a homophobic bully and self-confessed abuser of women who should probably be taught a lesson. Not an easy choice I imagine. Especially for a woman like yourself?"

"What do you mean a woman like myself?" she snarled.

"Do I really have to spell it out, dear? I imagine your police partner has no clue as to your ... inclinations. While you think he is annoying enough with all his little quirks, he is at least inoffensive. But this - this would be a significant problem for him and you are well aware of that."

Step three: If in doubt, bluff. You might even hook a fat trout.

Jackson gaped. "How did you..."

Trout landed. Reel it in like crazy.

Regina sighed pointedly.

"I know the type," she said sympathetically. "But I digress, dear. Your choice is whether to side with an abusive brute or not."

She let her eyes drift to one side casually to take in the room, as though she hadn't seen it before. It gave the impression she had no real care as to the outcome of Jackson's conscience searching and was merely a humble observer.

"Why would I give a crap about Grylls and his caveman views?" Jackson finally responded. "You can't fight them all. There are plenty more like him out there. But your blonde bit? With her I can finally repay the shit she has put me through."

Regina adopted her most earnest expression. "Why would you care about Grylls? Because for all your bravado, and even beneath all your hatred for Miss Swan, you strike me as a woman who is dedicated to justice. YOU chose this career, no one else. So you clearly believe in fairness and ultimately doing the right thing."

Nene Jackson eyed Regina for a moment. "Grylls is a big asshole," she finally conceded.

Regina nodded hopefully.  _Sometimes a simple appeal to an ego was all it took._  Her hopes rose.

"But so's your girlfriend."

_Crap._

"She can be," Regina offered neutrally, hoping to scrabble back from the looming abyss. "But she is not my girlfriend. She is actually my town's sheriff. She moved to Boston and I have spent some time looking for her as the residents really would like her back. She was very good at the various duties she performed for me."

"I'll just bet." The officer gave a leer that left nothing to the imagination.

 _Double crap._  Regina tried one last time. Soft options were pretty useless after all, it seemed.

"I am just asking, Officer, for you to do the fair and noble thing and not let a bully off the hook. He attacked me over a pastry of all things. If my sheriff hadn't been there to haul him off me, I dread to think what would have happened. And what might happen the next time to the next woman."

The other woman pursed her lips and frowned, thinking. Regina held her breath.

"You are the smooth one, I'll give you that," she finally said with a low laugh. "All charm and uppity finishing-school manners. The problem is, ma'am, I am not buying the helpless routine for one minute. You're shrewd, playing on my vanity like that. My sense of justice and righteousness, my being a cop? Ha, nice try. But see the thing is I didn't choose this job. I am from a long line of cops. It was expected I'd do it. So, you see, Sugar, I don't do this for some crusade against evil. I do it because it is my family's heritage and that's all that matters.

"Now, this ... thing you do ..." she waved her hand up and down in front of Regina's face and chest, "it's impressive and sly. Probably makes men putty in your hand, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "But Grylls is like a big dumb territorial dog. And you would have had to poke him with a stick or goad him pretty hard for him to attack like that. And with your fancy britches big three-dollar words, you probably insulted the fuck out of him."

Regina lifted an eyebrow, reluctantly impressed at the officer's deductive skills. The appeal to the woman's nobility should have worked. It did work on most people.

"I ..." Regina began smoothly.

"Before you shmooze me again, lady, or try and twist me with your impressive charms, I should point out I have also seen the security tape. It has no audio, but it's clear you were not a blameless little lamb in this."

"He attacked me first," Regina protested lightly. "The tape must show that. No court would ever convict based on that."

"I actually agree on that. And I'd say they won't." Jackson leaned forward and gave a smile. "I destroyed the tape."

"What?" Regina's eyes flashed open.

"It slipped off the counter and I accidentally may have walked on it when Kennedy's back was turned. Once or twice. Because you're right, it does actually look like he is intimidating you. His size alone makes you look like the victim.

"But that tape doesn't play into my grand vision for you both," she added with a nasty smirk, "a vision which involves a cramped little cell and a lot of adjournments before this ever gets to court. I am fairly sure I could stall for months. And just for the cherry on top, I know the district's local magistrate, real well. Saved his kid's life a few months back. So bail? What bail?"

Regina sat stock still for a moment. She had completely misread her quarry. That didn't happen often. She was neither a defender of the weak nor easily manipulated. She was disturbingly familiar, actually.

"If that'd be all? I have an asshole 'victim' to console and a thieving bitch sheriff to bang-up in a cell. Along with yourself, of course. Madame Mayor."

The woman's intense smile was now disturbing. She thought she had won. She rose cockily to her feet, preparing to leave.

Enough. Regina instantly dropped the facade of civility, her features rearranging into seriously pissed.

 _Fine. Step Four, if all else fails, unleash The Evil Queen._

Jackson froze in surprise as agreeable Regina Mills vanished and a glittering, dangerous predator took her place. Like a vicious bird of prey suddenly unfurling enormous wings, the mayor's presence filled the room. For a moment the two women just stared at each other, taking the other's measure.

Regina offered her most unsettling smile, enjoying the uncertainty which briefly crossed the other woman's face. She licked her lips in anticipation.

_Round two._

"It must be hard having to be out here in the middle of nowhere," Regina began, the edge in her voice unmistakeable.

"I don't know about that," the officer retorted drily. "The Skowhegan suspension bridge is renowned in this area."

"And I believe there's a button museum not too far away," Regina supplied helpfully, taunting. "Mustn't forget that, dear."

"What's your point?"

Regina smiled. Her quarry had already told her what mattered to her.

"You accepted the interstate transfer your father arranged like a good daughter. You became a police officer because of him. Family is important to you. Such a pity you humiliated and disappointed him like that."

She paused to enjoy the flare of rage in burning brown eyes watching her.

"It would be a pity if the reasons for your being hidden out here like the secret family shame were made public. It would seriously hurt him, wouldn't it?"

Jackson snorted. "Please. He is untouchable now. I live in a different state, I am not in his chain of command. He won his election easily. And he's retiring next year, so what could you possibly do to him - or me - by sharing old news?"

Bluff called.

Regina's lips curved and she leaned back in the chair, enjoying seeing the hint of fear play out around the edge of the woman's eyes. For all her bluster, Officer Nene Jackson was definitely afraid of something. And Regina was pretty sure she had a fair idea of what.

She played her ace card. "You must have practised that line in your head the moment you recognised Miss Swan. All the reasons why your tawdry, violent night of shame doesn't hurt Daddy anymore. But we both know that's a lie."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I happen to know Daddy wants to be Boston's next mayor, when he retires as police chief. And we both know it."

"You can't possibly know that," Jackson faded out, uncertainly.

"Oh, my dear, but I do. It takes one politician to notice the behaviors of another. The ostentatious declarations of his goals to clean up crime, his populist fear-mongering targeting certain minority groups that have no numbers to defend themselves in the media. His sudden interest in uttering key phrases like 'family values'. What police chief cares about such hollow rhetoric?

"And let's not forget a certain influential evangelical church ... showy attendance every Sunday, complete with appearances on the steps and waving to the crowd, arm in arm with the reverend? Quite a spectacle he is making of himself. I suspect he will announce his run quite soon. And you are lacking any political acumen or intelligence if you think that arresting a harmless smalltown sheriff and mayor after they have been cruelly attacked won't cause any waves."

"Your word against Grylls. I told you, there is no tape." Jackson gave a slimey smirk. Relief was plastered across her face.

Regina pulled out Emma's phone. "Actually, dear, not quite. It seems the gentleman in question's exploits have ... what's the word? Gone viral?"

She tapped on the email from Mandy that read: "What the hell have you two been up to? I Googled that fleapit stop you're at and look what came up!'' Beneath it was a YouTube link. Regina hit play. In vivid colour, with clear audio, was most of their fight. And Grylls' foul language and nasty threats were as clear as Emma's dogged bravery in trying to unpeel him from Regina with all her might.

"I would think the two women only defending themselves from a vile brute should probably be allowed to go on their way, don't you dear?" Regina asked sweetly. "Because if you impede us, not only will I use all my substantial political savvy to make sure every media outlet in the nation gets this video, but I will also explain there is malice because the officer who arrested us had earlier held a knife to my sheriff. And even if they don't believe that, it won't matter. The story will be everywhere. Police brutality. Sex scandal. All right around the time your father wants to announce his run for mayor. And if you think Police Chief Jackson is unhappy with you now, I can just imagine how proud he'll be after this.

"And just for fun, I might even drop a word in your uptight colleague's ear on the way out about what really brings you to Skowhegan," Regina purred, as panic flooded the other woman's face. It was a bluff but it seemed to be doing the job nicely. She sat back and waited for the inevitable capitulation.

"Fuck, lady," Jackson growled in fury, "You really are a politician. But you've forgotten one thing: Grylls will want to press charges." She shook her head. "So your threats are meaningless. He will howl long and loud if we don't charge you two."

"Leave that to me," Regina said simply, as if it were of no consequence. "Now, are we done?" She gave another wide smile.

Jackson shrugged. "Good luck getting the asshole to retract his statement," she snorted. "If you can do that, then you're free to go." She gave such a disbelieving look Regina almost laughed.

She paused as she took in the defeated, angry countenance of her foe scowling darkly at her. She felt a flash of something akin to sympathy. The bristly, restless, frustrated woman really was a bit more similar to the old her than she'd care to admit. Trapped by circumstance, thwarted love, family demands and bad choices.

"Well I will soon be on my way, but may I impart one little piece of advice?" Regina began. She hesitated and dropped the mocking from her tone before continuing. "From experience I can tell you that doing any role or job because of a parent's expectations and not your own only leads to a life of utter misery. You're too young to waste it all. Get out of here. Time to live your own life."

Jackson glared at her incredulously and growled: "Mind your own goddamn business. Oh and if I might offer YOU a bit of advice? If you want to pretend you don't have the hots for someone, try not eyefuck her every three seconds. For a politician you really aren't as smart as you think."

Regina paused and let the insult wash over her. "At least I HAVE someone in my life to eyefuck, dear," she said quietly.

She gave her a pitying stare and stalked out.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Emma and Regina were putting on their seatbelts, and the mayor was humming contentedly as she reversed the car out of the lot. That had been surprisingly good for her mood, turning the bear into a whimpering puddle, begging her forgiveness. The big brute had folded in exactly three minutes, 22 seconds.

"How?" Emma asked, still staring in wonder at her. "I go to put my bag back in the car and when I come back he's all 'so sorry ma'am, please don't'. Did you threaten to sue him or something? Or sic the Mafia on him? What?"

"No dear," Regina replied and pointed to the cell phone on the dash. "Do check your email. And pay particular attention to the title on the video."

Emma took her phone and tapped into her account.

She read quickly, then frowned in confusion at Mandy's words, clicking on the video. Her eyes widened. "The kid," she muttered, realising who the cameraman was.

"Look at the title," Regina repeated and smirked as she pulled out onto Route 95.

Emma read: "Gutless douchey bully gets rolled by two chicks at Bill's Eats and Fuel. FIGHT!"

She clicked "Expand" and read on "Watch the blonde nail him in the nuts! Stupid Grylls won't walk straight for a month. Laughing SO hard."

"Ah," Emma said and locked her phone, pocketing it. "Punched him right in the male ego."

"Mhhhm," Regina agreed with a chuckle. "I told him I would see to it that it got emailed it to everyone he knows if he persisted with his demands we be prosecuted."

"Can you do that?"

"Of course not. How would I know who he knows?" Regina shrugged. "But he seemed stupid enough to believe me which is all that matters."

Emma grinned.

"And Jackson? What the hell did you say to her? She looked like she had been jumped by a herd of stampeding wilderbeest when she came out of the staff room."

"We just discussed politics, really. I made a strong case for her releasing two innocent victims of crime."

Emma snorted. "God, you're..."

"Yes dear?"

"Good. You really,  _really_  good."

"Thank you, dear. Now I believe we've delayed our journey long enough. Shall we?"

Emma grinned and gave a nod.

Regina put her foot down and the sleek black Mercedes shot forward, onward toward Storybrooke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I humbly apologise to anyone from Skowhegan. I am sure it is a lovely town and its police force full of committed individuals who don't see their home as "Outer Buttfuck, Maine". If you're in the area, check out the old suspension bridge. I hear it is scenic. Grin.


	42. Soft

"I believe you by the way." Emma spoke softly and Regina glanced from the road to look at her passenger.

"Well that's nice, dear, but you'll have to be a bit more specific." She smiled easily, teeth gleaming against olive skin, and Emma was struck yet again by how much more open this version of the mayor was.

"That you've really changed."

The silence hung between them for a few beats before Regina's eyes flicked back to the road. Her fingers tightened on the black leather steering wheel.

"Thank you," she said quietly and a wealth of emotions seemed to hang off the word.

The brunette licked her lips and turned slightly. "Does this mean you might be willing to give us another chance?"

"I thought there was 'no us'," Emma retorted, only half joking, unable to resist recalling the times Regina had made that perfectly clear.

Regina's lips thinned. "I suppose I deserve that. But you haven't answered my question. Or do you need more time?"

Emma leaned her head against the window and watched the scenery whiz by. They had only an hour or so left of travel and were getting further and further away from civilization. The trees were a darker emerald green now; fewer cars passed them on the road coming towards them.

For a moment her breath fogged the cold window and she found it a relief against her warm skin.

"I think I'll go with 'undecided' for now," she said after a moment. "But I think before I get anywhere near reaching a decision, I want you to tell me something."

Regina's eyes tightened and she tensed.

Emma caught the motion out of the corner of her eye and offered a curious look. "What on earth are you thinking I am about to ask you?"

Regina gave a mirthless laugh and forcibly relaxed her features. "Knowing you, dear, absolutely anything."

She gave her shoulders a wiggle as if to relax herself further and then said: "Alright, ask."

"You've changed a lot, personality wise," Emma began. "For the better, I mean, you're so much better, right? I am glad, really." She gave a reassuring smile.

Regina merely cocked an eyebrow with a faintly pleased expression and waited.

"But what I am trying to understand most - what I really NEED to understand - is how you went from hating me..." Regina made to object so Emma put up her hand and clarified. "...or at the very least not seeing me as friend-worthy to... " She waved her hand between them. "Wanting me. With you. As an actual 'us'. Cos that, right there - that's like the mother of all missing links for me. It's like a seismic freaking shift from what I knew about you that day I drove away. And I just don't get it."

She sucked in a big breath. "So, tell me: what changed?"

Regina's hands caressed the steering wheel and she eyed the snaking road ahead thoughtfully.

"That is a big question, Emma," she said distantly. "A very big question."

* * *

**STORYBROOKE PAST**

She had told them all she wanted to get their sheriff back for them. A town needs its sheriff, after all. Having sheriff office shifts split between two part-timers - David Nolan (who basically did the grunt work) and Ruby Lucas (who did the office work) - was beyond insufficient. Everyone knew it. They were one disaster or serious accident away from coming apart at the seams. It had been pure dumb luck the town hadn't needed a full-time sheriff yet in Emma's absence.

Regina had walked out of the hall that day after all those cloying hugs and, worse, displays of misty-eyed sympathy, and her eyes had fallen on the cricket.

Archie Hopper was leaning on his ridiculous umbrella at the back of the room, away from the crowd, watching her with a knowing expression that she did not like one little bit. Her lips had pressed together and she glared, daring him to challenge her reasons.

Instead of being intimidated, he merely blinked at her placidly. As she neared, she felt a chill skitter down her spine, half expecting him to just blurt out to the entire town why he thought she _really_ needed Emma back.

He did not speak, although his gaze tracked her as she passed him. She felt relief and then wondered how long she could avoid that conversation for.

Not long, as it turned out.

After their session a few weeks later where he had gleefully announced she was now seen as "human" and she had predictably protested, he had watched her for a moment and offered a tiny smile.

"I think you're ready," he finally announced.

"What?"

"Emma. It's time we addressed the, erm, red-jacketed elephant in the room." He seemed faintly impressed with himself at the attempt at wit.

Regina rolled her eyes and had virtually leapt from her chair to stalk to her spot at the window. It gave her a tiny measure of comfort. She didn't bother to deny she knew what he was talking about. She stared out gloomily.

"I don't think so, doctor," she said. "I am not ready."

"Well if you intend to track her down and interact with her again soon, we should probably discuss how you feel about her."

Regina let her head rest against the window frame. "I don't want to," she mumbled. Her heart thumped furiously as she considered the blonde. She almost clutched her chest to smooth away the thundering beating - instead curling her hand into a fist at the last moment. "Hurts."

"I know," Archie said kindly. "But, Regina, that is a child's response. And you are stronger than you think. You can do this. If love didn't hurt so much, perhaps it wouldn't be worth the fight to get it?"

"Love?!" Regina had spun back to gape at him. "Who said anything about love?" Her eyes darkened warningly.

He lifted a consoling hand. "The pursuit of love then," he amended. "But even if you _do_ love her, that's OK, too. You are ready to, you know."

"Whatever happened to it being a bad idea?" Regina scowled. "In this very room, you told me it wouldn't work."

"It wouldn't work _then_ ," Archie replied. "It was a less sound idea then. Back when you were so..."

He paused as he sought the right word.

" _Broken_ , doctor," Regina said, nipping the word cleanly like pruning a nasty thorn, and turned back to the window. "You can say it. I came to terms with it."

 _And evil_ , she silently added. _Don't forget that bit._ Although she was secretly working on that part, at least.

As if reading her mind, the doctor spoke: "I know you have been working to change yourself. To be better than you were. Your progress has been remarkable."

Regina ignored the compliment. They were too freely handed out these days, anyway. And, increasingly, far too intimate for her liking.

_Why Madame Mayor, how smart you look today. Is it a new haircut?_

_You seem so much happier, Ms Mills. It's lovely to see._

_Regina, we think it's so wonderful of you to ask Emma to return. Truly wonderful. _  
_ _

She rolled her eyes at them all. Her motives were not exactly pure and selfless. If only they knew. Emma was like a drug she had repeatedly tried and failed to expunge from her system. Now she had just accepted she needed it. Needed her.

But that didn't mean she loved her. _She didn't do love._ And it didn't mean she was unbroken. Yet. But she _was_ trying.

Archie continued: "I have seen the changes you have made. Remarkable. And not just on the inside. External efforts, as well."

That got her attention. She turned, left eyebrow scraping the heavens. "What do you mean?" she asked silkily. " _External_ efforts?"

"Would I be correct in assuming Mr Gold's new girlfriend - appearing out of nowhere one day - was something to do with you?"

"How did..." Regina's eyes crinkled in confusion. She had told no one about Belle. Just silently, secretly snuck in and released her one day, gave her directions to Gold's house and asked her to keep her involvement quiet.

It had been a spur of the moment decision. If she wanted to be less evil, she had reasoned at the time, she may as well start by undoing any evil that could still be undone. Even as she had put the warm coat around small, trembling shoulders, she had wondered if she had just opened a perilous can of worms. But as huge eyes had looked up gratefully at her, taking the map, she found she didn't care.

She was getting soft.

To that end, she also had spent the past few months returning the stored hearts. All of them. She had her alarm set to 1am most days and by 4am would be back in her own bed after her nightly special ops. Skeleton keys did have their uses. And with one exception, no one woke up.

That exception, mercifully, had been Leroy, who she had whispered in his ear should go back to sleep as he was drunk and imagining things. He had believed her.

And even if he hadn't - who would believe him?

She did wonder, fleetingly, at times why she bothered at all. It wasn't like she could proudly present a list of her good deeds to Emma as proof she was worthy of a saviour's attentions. But Regina would know. And, deep down, she knew it mattered.

Her thoughts drifted and she realised the doctor hadn't answered her question.

"Explain," she ordered. "What makes you think I know about Belle?"

"Mr Gold took her to see me, concerned she was mentally harmed by being incarcerated in a mental institution for years. In the course of her session, she described to me being rescued by a beautiful brunette in an expensive suit. That narrowed things down."

 _Rescued?_ Regina almost choked. That was one word for what she had done to the poor girl. The sleeping meds hidden in Belle's meals for years were clearly exceptionally effective if she couldn't recall who visited her off and on in the ward over the years.

She paused. _Poor girl?_ She almost choked a second time.

_Definitely getting soft._

"She must be mistaken," Regina said smoothly. "I don't do rescues." She waved her hand indifferently. She pretended it meant nothing to her. And it hadn't meant much, really, she repeatedly told herself.

Although when she'd passed Gold on the street the next day he had stopped and looked at her hard, his mouth working, as if unable to decide what to say. Torn between gratitude and anger. The silence had dragged on as he warred so she had leaned in and suggested quietly: "It's time. Enough of the old enmities. That's why. Let's be done with it."

As she had been about to keep on walking, his walking stick reached out to bar her path. She heard him hiss: "Truce then, dearie. And only because you never used her for blackmail or deals with me. And only because she is still _my Belle_.''

She could hear the wonder and warmth slip out unbidden in his last two words and she knew his love for the girl had probably saved Regina from a pretty vicious reprisal.

"Truce," she confirmed and pushed the walking stick away and resumed walking. The word had sounded so agreeable as if it was neither here nor there. But she felt unaccountably strange that he had found someone who filled him with joy. It had been an odd sensation - and it took a long while to process her reaction. Eventually she concluded she felt _good_ about what she had done.

Curious - she was actually wishing happiness for others who had no bearing on her life at all.

_Really, really soft._

"You don't do rescues?" Archie repeated, eyes twinkling. "And you don't do acts of charity either, I suppose."

Regina's mind shifted, drawn back into Hopper's conversation. She frowned. "You've lost me. Or do you mean Matt's riding program? City Hall handles those funding stipends without my involvement."

"You gave Miss Blanchard a sizeable cheque for her school fundraiser."

There was a beat and Regina opened her mouth and then shut it again. Irritated.

"She was supposed to keep that to herself."

"She was extremely grateful."

"I was protecting Henry's welfare. We can't have a school hall falling into disrepair during the Arts Fair. Besides, as mayor, I have a certain lattitude..."

"Regina," Archie sighed. "It was a personal cheque."

Regina bit her lip. Finally she sighed.

"No good deed goes unpunished it seems."

She hadn't actually intended to ever mend that particular bridge. Or even go near it. She had turned up at the school fundraiser purely because it was her civic duty. She would make a speech, shake some hands, tolerate Miss Blanchard's prattle about how wonderful it was to see everyone and have everyone's support.

Instead...

She sighed. Instead she had found herself trapped in a quiet corner of the hall actually talking to the annoying woman. It had started with a discussion about Henry but had segued into Emma. And before she knew it, she had felt a wave of shared kinship over needing the blonde back. Needing her back so powerfully it hurt. And no one else understood why it was so important to her, so necessary for... for reasons.

But _she_ did.

And in that tiny split second, barely a single pump of heart, Regina knew the teacher felt exactly the same way. In that infintessimally small moment, when time seemed frozen, Regina had briefly warmed to her. She had a sudden flashback to who she had been as a girl. And how Regina hadn't always entirely hated her with every single outraged molecule of her being.

It was gone in a second. A single beat. Time resumed. But their eyes had locked and something had happened. Something greater than both of them.

She shook her head in confusion and Miss Blanchard walked quickly away, equally unsettled by a shared recognition that she had no memories to put into context.

Regina had stood stock still for long minutes, shocked to even find a microscopic sliver of care for the woman. For the girl she had been. It rattled her to the core. Finally she decided it was probably their shared Emma affection which connected them. That _had_ to be all it was.

The thought lingered though. She felt restless. Her fingers had twitched to rid herself of the feeling. So before she had left the fundraiser she surreptitiously dropped a cheque into the collections bowl. Not quite an olive branch, more a ... an acknowledgment. For things best left unsaid.

She had slunk away, still conflicted. _Besides, the hall DID need a renovation in time for the arts fair the teacher so dearly wanted to hold. No reason Henry should suffer because school funds didn't stretch that far._

She should have known her scribbled note attached to the cheque requesting anonymity would be ignored. There was yet to be a secret little Snow White couldn't spill, her brain mocked.

But for once she couldn't muster enough anger to truly care. That in itself gave her a surprise.

She exhaled heavily. It was just one more change she was going through. Maybe, as she had said to Gold, it was for the best. The time for ancient enemies locked in escalating, endless feuds was drawing to a close.

What was the point of it all anymore, really? The day she had virtually resigned herself to Kathryn reuniting with her love, and had even found herself encouraging it (or at least not actively getting in the way), was the day she knew the old Regina was gone for good.

 _Unrepentantly soft_.

"You don't want to talk about your peace overture to Miss Blanchard?"

"I do not." Regina crossed her arms. She wondered briefly if everyone knew they'd been at war. She thought she'd been more subtle than that.

"So then," Archie said, "Let's get back to Emma."

Regina firmed her jaw. "I don't love her," she stated flatly. She watched a cyclist gingerly make his way slowly up the wet road, all elbows and knees.

"OK." Archie eyed her serenely.

"But I don't hate her either," Regina added. She laughed in a low mirthless tone. "Actually I never have been able to - although I have wanted to very much. And yes, I do want her to come back. Storybrooke is not the same without her. It is quite dull without her unique brand of chaos." Regina smiled at the more pleasant memories of the chaos. "Everyone misses her."

"Including you." Hopper watched her closely. Daring her to deny it.

Regina swallowed. "Yes," she finally admitted into the window. _So odd to say that out loud_. She continued the thought as her eyes automatically searched the streets below. Always looking for yellow.

"Especially me."


	43. THE BRAVE ONE

"What changed is that I missed you," Regina answered the blonde, eyes fixed on the road. "More than I ever thought possible."

"Gee thanks," Emma retorted, unimpressed.

Regina huffed out a breath. "I didn't mean I was shocked that I'd missed you. I mean I missed you an absurd amount. Especially absurd given how we left things."

"That was _my_ point, Regina."

Emma folded her arms and let her eyes slip close. She was getting tired and this drive and all the endless processing and brushes with brutes were taking it out of her.

She dimly heard Regina's reply. "Have you never taken something for granted only to realise it only when it's not yours anymore?"

This was spoken so softly and heartfelt that Emma cracked an eyelid.

"You felt like I was 'yours' before?" she asked curiously.

There was silence for a beat.

"Weren't you?" the brunette's raw tones asked.

"Only in the most unhealthiest of senses," Emma said with a grimace. "Is THAT what you missed? Me as your pet? Being at your beck and call to tuck you in any hour of the day or night?" The bitterness tinged her words and she slid her eyes shut again. Annoyed to be reliving that particular moment in time.

"It was more than that and you know it," Regina replied testily. She gentled her tone. "We had a connection. It was ... it felt deep. To me. Too deep at times. And when it was gone ..." She faded out.

Emma waited, eyes still clenched shut, but listening closely.

"First I denied the connection ever existed," the mayor continued. "Like if I just pretended I could convince myself it wasn't real. Or it meant nothing. Then I mourned not having it. And finally I admitted I wanted it back. I wanted you back.

"And not just me. Everyone wanted you back. Especially Henry. He has been missing you enormously."

"Don't bring Henry into this," Emma muttered in irritation. "That's such a cop-out." She slipped her eyes open again, suddenly incredibly curious to have one particular question answered. "So, tell me: When did you know you felt more for me than as a mere bed warmer and nightmare wrangler?"

Regina's responding smirk felt bright enough to light up the car. A hint of devilishness danced across her face. Her voice dropped to throaty - a tone that never failed to skitter all the way down Emma's spine.

"Well, my dear, that was probably the first time some unfortunate soul decided to ask me out and I had to refrain from throwing him across Granny's," she said, teeth gleaming. "His chief selling point, apparently, was his view that I was one of the few women in Storybrooke 'in his league'. Quite possibly the most appallingly worded proposition I have ever heard. And he just irritated me even deigning to ask."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Who was it?" she growled.

"Oh so now you're wide awake?"

" _Regina_..."

"Is it relevant? I did say no to him, after all. I even 'accidentally' dropped my coffee into his lap in case he mistook my response as a 'maybe'."

"Who. Was. It?"

"Jealous, dear?"

Emma's jaw worked and she shot the mayor her best pissed-off look.

"Well?" Regina asked sweetly, teasing. "Admit it," she husked, "Then I'll name names."

"Yes." Emma grumbled. "I just don't like the idea of you dating someone else."

"Even though you dated multiple people in my absence? How do you suppose that makes me feel?" Regina's eyebrow lifted.

Emma scowled. "That was just empty sex. Not exactly 'dating'. The lawyer excluded. And as we have already established - repeatedly - she didn't get past the starters."

Regina eyed her for a moment then offered up the name.

"Albert Spencer. The District Attorney." She said his name clinically as though listing a particularly dull business associate. Which he probably was.

Emma shuddered on hearing it. There was something so cold about that man. He turned her blood to ice. And yet... The blonde considered his piercing eyes and intelligent features. He had an angular handsomeness that some women found appealing. She wondered if Regina was one of them.

"Not your type then?" she asked innocently.

"Fishing, are we?" Regina gave an amused smile at Emma's darkening expression. "But no, dear, he certainly is not."

She took pity on Emma's moody face and added: "If you must know, he was not nearly blonde enough. And his fashion sense is simply too good, leaning far from primary colors and tacky pleatherwear."

"Hey!"

"Yes, dear?"

"I, um... Did you just insult me?"

Regina chuckled.

Emma gave a small answering smile as she took in the mirth dancing across Regina's face. She did love seeing that particular expression. She felt her traitorous heart leap excitedly and groaned inwardly.

"I suppose it makes me a monster hypocrite but I am glad you didn't date that weasel," she finally conceded.

Regina's face twisted into a wry grimace. "It was not much of a choice. Truthfully, you were all I could think of and I realised just how much that was true the moment he made his offer. Everyone else suddenly seemed so inferior. Like faded facsimiles beside an intoxicating masterpiece."

Her eyes flicked to Emma's and the pair stared at each other for a beat. Emma's breath caught. No one had ever called her a masterpiece before. No one had ever likened her to anything near that poetic. She used to feel lucky if they just said her name in a good way. The words were heady. And deliberately designed to flatter. She paused and frowned, remembering Mandy's warnings about the smooth charms of one Mayor Regina Mills.

It would be too easy to get lost in the depths of brown.

She looked away for a moment and forced herself to focus. "So in answer to my question, what changed is that you finally realised you missed me," Emma summarised flatly. "Like some whipped puppy you tossed by the side of the road, suddenly you remembered you did quite enjoy its company after all? Even if it was a bit mangy? But it had enough charm to miss once it was no longer there, thumping its tail for you."

Regina's head snapped, an appalled expression flashing across her face. She pursed her lips, and waited a moment, clearly wrestling with her response. Then she swallowed.

"If you were the whipped puppy, dear, then I was the unwanted doberman left out in the rain beside you," she said harshly. "There was enough pain to go around, Emma. I admit I ran away from mine instead of facing it with you. I am deeply sorry about that. It was not the brave thing to do. But of us both, you were always the brave one."

Emma exhaled. "OK," she said.

"OK?" Regina asked, confused.

"I accept your explanation. Don't agree with your actions, but I get it. Although, for the record, you're more a chocolate labrador than doberman."

She closed her eyes again. She was too tired to argue, anyway. It had been a long day and this was ground they'd probably never cease picking over like two-day old salad. It didn't actually achieve much. She hunkered down lower in the seat.

"Need a nap. Wake me when we get to the border."

* * *

"Emma? Wake up. We're here."

"Mmm?" Emma's eyes flickered open. Recognition suddenly flooded her senses, battering at her from all sides like a tornado.

They were in Storybrooke. If it was possible to drown in the familiar, then Emma was going down for the count in heaving lungfuls of memories. Her eyes greedily fed on the sight of the clock tower, Granny's, the hardware store, the bait and tackle shop. She flicked her eyes from building to building and felt her heart lurch in anticipation, delight, then twist into anxiety. She felt Regina watching her.

"How does it feel?" Regina asked quietly. "Is it how you remembered?"

"Yeah," she said, a finger lifting unconsciously to the glass passenger window and running down it slowly. "Exactly. Like time stood still."

Regina gave a soft snort.

"What?" Emma asked.

"Nothing dear, you just reminded me of something."

Emma's eyes floated back to the town's clock. " _Shit!_ Regina! Is that the time? Why are you going this way? We're gonna be late."

"I need to stop by my house for a change of clothes. We cannot possibly attend a wedding in this ... attire."

Emma's eyes flicked to the mayor's borrowed trackpants and tanktop. Her hair was still a mess and face worse for wear. The blonde knew she didn't look much better herself. But still.

"No." She told the mayor.

"No?"

"We have to be there for the vows at least. Can't we just, I dunno, sneak in at the back, see them say 'I do', then run over to your place and change and come back for the reception?"

"I will not attend a town gathering in this ridiculous outfit!" Regina's voice was steely. " _Absolutely not._ "

"Then stop the fucking car because I will walk there if I have to."

"Emma..."

"No! I want to hear their vows! I didn't come all this way to have everyone else say 'Hey where were you? You missed a great ceremony'. Come ON!"

"Emma," Regina tried again. "Please. I will look _ridiculous_."

"And so will I. Right beside you. You said I was the brave one. So listen to me - our friends would rather we were there looking like we crawled backwards through a hedge, than looking like freaking goddesses half an hour too late. Come on, be brave with me. Stand with me this time. Please? And if we're lucky no one will even notice. We'll be right by the doors so we can do a runner."

Regina bit her lip and frowned darkly. Deciding.

Emma held her breath.

"They'll _laugh_ at me," Regina admitted in the faintest, doubt-filled voice, but Emma could hear the question mark this time. _Resolve weakening._

"I doubt that," Emma said firmly. "You are Regina 'Screw You' Mills. They wouldn't dare! But if anyone does, they'll have me to answer to," she threatened with a growl. She paused and continued more quietly. "Regina, your sense of dignity is just an illusion, you know. It's all a silly mask. It's not more important than being there for our friends. _That's_ what matters."

The sigh was long and heavy and Emma had to hide her delighted grin as she felt the surge from the gas pedal as they drove straight past Regina's mansion and onwards to the wedding venue.

Emma arched her neck as they passed the white building - taking in the balcony and French doors outside Regina's bedroom that she knew so well. Intimately, in fact, after so many nights. So many memories.

Nothing had changed, she mused. Even the air smelled the same. Old world, rustic, country. Something ancient.

She glanced back to Regina's face which was set with a determined but faintly appalled look. Her knuckles were white on the wheel.

Nothing had changed, Emma thought again as she eyed the other woman. And yet everything had.

She smiled in wonder.

"Hey," she said as she bumped the woman's upper arm with her elbow. "Proud of you," she said with a wide grin. "And thank you."

The brunette stared determinedly through the windshield as though she hadn't heard. But Emma could see the faintest of tugs at the edges of her mouth.

She could almost hear a grumbled 'Yeah, yeah' in Regina's drawl inside her head.

She leaned back contentedly, beyond pleased.

_Almost there._


	44. THE FOREVER PART

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am borrowing Scribes's headcanon in this, for Granny's first name and second job. Also - thanks to everyone on Tumblr who did my Staircase mini survey. It was much appreciated. I found your responses fascinating and unexpected.

They pulled up to a hall at the rear of Matt's property. The building was small, solid, built from wooden slats and with large, heavy double doors at the rear. It had homey care-worn look to it that suggested the stables owner had built it himself - and for all Regina knew, he probably had.

There were cars parked everywhere, a haphazard colorful assortment, testament to boxy 80s designs. Running her eye over them, Regina realised the couple had gathered a sizable crowd for their ceremony. All of whom were already inside. And here she was, looking like...

She ground her teeth and wondered at what indulgent idiocy had made her agree to Emma's request they attend the service looking like barnyard animals. She supposed it fit though, she mused, as she brought her car to an abrupt stop. They were about to enter a converted barn, after all.

She glanced at the blonde who now seemed suspiciously quiet, an odd expression fixed on her features.

"You doing OK?'' Regina drawled. "You don't look too thrilled to be here."

The mayor unclicked her seat belt and turned back to eye the other woman more closely.

"I, yeah, just a little nervous," Emma said quietly. "I haven't seen these guys in ages," she added and waved her hands towards the hall. "It'll be... overwhelming I guess. And then, you know, seeing Henry, too."

Regina nodded and slipped off her sunglasses, tucking them into a pouch then sliding it into a storage slot between the two seats. She glanced up and smiled.

"Well, as you pointed out to me not too long ago, they're all here for Matt and Archie - not us. Their attention will be suitably diverted for quite some time. So we'll just slip in and..." She faded out as she saw Emma swallow anxiously, fingers shaking slightly as she took off her own seat belt.

_The woman really did seem unsettled._ Regina studied her, curious.

"Really starting to wish we'd stopped now," the blonde explained with a small, nervous smile, eyes darting to Regina's then back out the car window. "Sorry I was being a pain before. I just thought - come on, now's not the time to stop. We're so close. We've come all this way. But now..." She pointed to the barn doors, festooned with crepe paper twists and balloons.

_Definitely Miss Blanchard's absurdly festive work_ , the mayor noted with a derisive lip curl before she could stop herself as her eyes followed where the blonde's finger was pointing.

"Well, now we're actually here," Emma continued, "I'm kinda less sure we'll be able to pull off the commando secret sneak-in." The words died in her throat and she looked down sheepishly before finally admitting: "And I don't want to be gawked at either. Hate being the center of attention"

She gripped her hands tightly and twisted them in her lap.

Regina's mouth twitched. She swallowed back the smart-ass retort itching to be expressed because she had only made this exact argument 10 minutes earlier.

"Well, dear, I am all for driving us back to my place, and getting freshened up before our big entrance." She reached for her seat belt again.

Emma stopped her, placing a hand on Regina's wrist. The fingers were cold. "No. Come on. I think I just have pre-wedding jitters. And it's not even my wedding." She grinned, faintly embarrassed. Then opened the door purposefully and stood.

Regina watched her for a beat and followed suit. _One in, all in_ , she supposed.

For a moment they both stood there, leaning against opposite sides of the Mercedes, saying nothing, staring ahead at the hall, straining to work out what was going on inside.

Regina could swear she could hear some form of music which seemed absurdly out of place. It was a tune she'd heard on Eugenia Lucas's jukebox before but never high on rotation. Then she identified it. She arched a disbelieving eyebrow. Would Grigor the Impaler really have a Willie Nelson tune blaring at his wedding?

"We should have invited your country-singing lawyer friend," Regina announced with a smirk which widened as she saw incredulity cross Emma's face, as she, too, identified the song. "She'd have fitted right in."

Without waiting for an answer, and ignoring the indignant snort to her right, the mayor strode forward and put her hands confidently on the doors' double handles. She paused for effect, looked back and smiled at the blonde, white teeth catching the light of the late afternoon sun.

"Coming, dear?"

* * *

_It was a nightmare_ , Regina thought with a grimace, as the doors creaked open in a squeal. She had raised a toddler through the terrible twos who never managed to get his lung capacity to this level of ear-damaging shrieking, even during a full-on tantrum. But these doors were determined to loudly announce their arrival.

Beside her Emma had paled significantly and appeared ready to bolt so Regina slipped a steadying arm around her waist and gave her gentle push, propelling her forward. _Just in case._

There was a faint glow all around, and she realised the room had been beautifully lit in every available space by a raft of hand-crafted convent candles. The faint smells, of vanilla and spices, were intoxicating. Her eyes took a moment to adjust. _Always On My Mind_ came to an abrupt halt as someone hit pause on the sound system and every eye in the hall, most of Storybrooke from the looks of things - all seated and waiting - swung to inspect the new arrivals.

She heard a low "oh shit" from the woman beside her.

_She knew the feeling_. Regina had never felt more self-conscious in her life. She ran a hand raggedly through her hair, well aware it was not at its usual spectacular best and yet again cursed herself for choosing this moment to prove to Emma Swan that she was capable of profound change.

She flicked her hand down again, intent on pile-driving it into the pocket of the absurd grey tracksuit pants she was stuck in, irritated that everyone was still gaping at them.

The violent hand movement had an unintended consequence. Three dislodged M&Ms flew abruptly out of the depths of her hair and shot down the wooden aisle towards the front of the hall. All eyes in the room tracked them, jaws dropping open in astonishment. Then, as though at a tennis match, the eyes shifted back to the brunette, perhaps to check whether candy smuggling in mayoral 'dos wasn't her latest intentional thing. At her appalled expression, the eyes shifted placidly back to safer territories - following the path of the bouncing sweets once more.

There was a lone snicker, unmistakeably Ruby's. Regina gritted her teeth. Then a high, squashed laugh followed by a shushing sound. Henry and Miss Blanchard. _Naturally_.

Regina, cheeks beginning to flame, swung her eyes accusingly back to her inadvertent M&M supplier, who mouthed an appalled **'** sorry' at her then looked down at her boots.

In the half light she took in the blonde's appearance. Dirt, a few smears of blood that had somehow escaped clean-up, and a spreading, now purpling bruise on the side of her face - accentuated by the eerie lighting and atmospheric shadows in the room.

She glanced down at herself and realised they both must look to the town like the 'other guy' in a bar fight.

She sighed. Her dignity was now officially a distant memory.

The M&Ms finally came to a colorful, spectacular halt, bounding up the polished black shoes of two immaculately suited men standing in front of the room.

Matt blinked in confusion then scratched his ear. Archie smiled widely, eyes seeking out hers across the hall.

"You made it! Excellent!" he declared cheerfully to the other end of the room. And he waved in welcome. Like a crazed six-year-old.

This time Regina shrank back, and Emma gave her a gentle prod. "If you run, I get to go too," she murmured in the brunette's ear.

"Tempting," Regina said through clenched teeth. "But I think that would be a little obvious right now."

Suddenly Mary Margaret leapt to her feet and ran down the aisle, shooting an apologetic look at the two grooms, hissing "just one sec" before bundling Emma into a hug and hauling her back up to the front of the room. She was whispering so loudly about how much she'd missed her and saying she'd saved her a seat that it was like a theatrical pantomime for the entire room. All that was missing was the popcorn.

Henry was virtually twitching with impatience, and he too leapt up and, less quietly, cried out "EMMA!'' before burying himself in her waist and hauling her to a vacant seat with a small 'reserved' card on it.

Regina froze. _Well that was a Kodak moment she was clearly not part of._ An old resentment slid into her synapses, coiling around like a snake. She recognised it for what it was and tried to think of ways to quieten it. Eventually she settled for ignoring its seductive, dark tendrils and licked her lips anxiously and wondered where she should sit.

There were no spare seats she could see. _Just her luck the happy couple was hugely popular._

Her cheeks felt red, burning hot, with embarrassment, rejection. She wondered what had possessed her to come, and endure any of this and...

"Regina!''

Her downward spiral was halted momentarily when she realised Emma had shot back out of her seat and was waving at her. She stared at her numbly for a beat, wondering what on earth she was doing. For a woman who didn't like being the center of attention, she was creating quite the spectacle. A beautiful spectacle, sure - albeit one who looked like she had recently been holidaying in Hell and had the battle scars to prove it.

She waited for Henry or Mary Margaret to inevitably pull her back into her chair and claim her for themselves. She couldn't blame them, she tried to tell herself. But it was excruciating. Time slowed down. All of Storybrooke watched on, fascinated. A low hub-bub was now burbling throughout the room.

Then Emma was moving towards her, breaking her trance, appearing suddenly in front of her. The blonde's hands were wrapping around the brunette's and pulling her back to the front row to the rest of her family.

And she was smiling. At her. Like she understood. All of it. The black thoughts that sometimes crept up on her, no matter how unbroken she was these days. _She knew._

Emma lead them to a seat beside Henry.

"Did you really think I was going to ditch you when I got here?" she whispered in her ear. "I am not that lousy a date, you know."

"That remains to be seen," Regina responded with a small humph as she sat. There was no malice in it though, and Emma snickered.

Eugenia Lucas interrupted them with a voice loud enough that no amplification was needed.

It was only then Regina even realised she had been at the front of the room all this time, waiting to marry the two men in her capacity as a civil celebrant. She frowned. She knew she had never built that particular career sideline into the woman's curse bio. So when did this happen?

"Mary Margaret tells me she did an online course last year," Emma said nodding towards her, reading her mind. "Said she sensed a 'shift in the Storybrooke air', whatever the hell that means."

_Ah._ Regina nodded, not taking her eyes off the buxom woman who was now addressing the room.

"Archie and Matt would like me to thank the Mayor for so ably fetching our sheriff for us so they could both share this event, too," she began. "And we all know how, ahem, eventful their journey has been."

The crowd erupted into laughter.

Emma and Regina shared puzzled looks. The brunette stiffened and looked around the room. People were waggling their phones at her. _What_?

"Even Storybrooke gets YouTube, Madame Mayor," Eugenia continued with a small chuckle and held up her own cell phone with a knowing shake. "And the sheriff's secretary was kind enough to email Miss Blanchard and explain that you were both on your way, but would likely face a small delay. We have been cooling our jets with the ageless perfection that is Mr Willie Nelson, awaiting for your arrival. But do tell the wonderful Mandy later we found her explanatory email attachment _most_ illuminating."

"NICE UPPERCUT, SHERIFF!'' someone bellowed from the back. Emma gaped, swiveling to see who it was. She turned back, lost.

"NAILED HIM IN THE NUTS!" came another cry, and this time they both recognized the voice as Leroy's. Emma rolled her eyes. Regina groaned inwardly, her body tensing.

The crowd roared with laughter once more, and Regina felt Henry shaking with mirth next to her and gave him her best "et tu" glare. It only made her unrepentant son laugh harder.

Matt and Archie both looked to be trying hard to suppress their own amusement. After a few minutes, Eugenia put up both her hands.

"OK you lot, settle down. Right, now that everyone is here, without further ado, we have a marriage to perform."

Her voice faded out into a distant drone as Regina turned hesitantly to look at Emma.

"OK, so how are you doing now?" she whispered mischievously.

"I'm gonna kill her," Emma hissed. "I can't believe Mandy would do that. Thought it was _hilarious_ no doubt. And cracking my email for Mary Margaret's address? She is so going to die."

"Really? But Miss Somerville seemed like such a lovely secretary."

"Well you only knew her before I killed her." Emma crossed her arms and glared.

"Relax dear," Regina said softly. "And they're right - you do have a magnificent uppercut."

She watched, pleased, as a perfect smile spread across Emma's face.

"I s'pose can I always kill her later," she grumbled.

She suddenly paused and paled. "Oh god. Does that video show me shouting ... um... that thing that I said?"

Regina cocked her head. "That thing you said? About me? And lo..." she queried.

Emma raised her hand sharply. "Shit, don't repeat it."

Regina frowned. _God forbid._

"No Miss Swan," she intoned, hiding her hurt. "Don't worry. You shared that with only me. And Mr Bear. And possibly a random family of four. But not the YouTube viewing public."

Emma exhaled. "Thank God. And it was private, Regina. OK? It's not that I am ... um... ashamed or whatever you're thinking, but I am not ready to think about that yet, let alone discuss it." She paused and groaned softly. "I am so going to kill that woman."

"Yes, dear, you're going to kill her," Regina agreed in amusement, hiding her relief. "Now focus - here's that part of the ceremony you made such a fuss about wanting to see."

They both fell silent and watched as the rings came out and the two men began to repeat shaky vows. Even Matt had lost his customary confidence and trembled slightly.

Emma breathed out softly. "Yeah," she whispered after a moment. "This is the best bit."

Regina glanced at her, intrigued.

Emma caught her eye and shrugged. She said quietly: "It's the bit where anything seems possible. Like the dream becomes real. It's actually beautiful, the forever part. No matter what else happens, it's like time stops here for them. It's all the happy endings come true."

She looked suddenly embarrassed and turned away again. She mumbled: "I know it's sappy. I just used to think a lot about finding happiness when I was in some of the unhappiest places on earth as a kid."

Regina thought about that with an aching jab of guilt. She had also never realised Emma was such a romantic. She contemplated an acerbic comment to inject some levity into the mood, but when she saw the rapt expression on the other woman's face, and a slight moistening in her eye, gruffly smeared away by a fist, she snapped her mouth shut again tightly.

Her eyes slid back to Matt and Archie, faces shining with love as they realised their happy ending. Emma's words floated back to her.

_Anything seems possible._

Regina's mouth twisted at the edges, her heart thudding hopefully. _Indeed_.


	45. THE HUNGER GAMES

Emma stood in the wedding hall's small rustic bathroom with its rough-hewn timber finishes and bare bulb. She studied her reflection in the rust-stained mirror.

Regina had headed back to her place to "freshen up", promising to be back soon. Emma had instead opted to grab her bag from the Merc and change here. It gave her more time with Henry and the others who had been talking excitedly to her non-stop since she'd arrived. It felt ... nice.

_Henry_. She sighed. He wanted her to stay an extra week for his birthday. She'd almost laughed at how he'd declared "it's just a week" and pouted like a pro. It had been the same line he'd used when she'd first arrived in Storybrooke.

She listened to his emotive pleas that he "only turned 12 once" and how exciting it would be to share the big day with her. And then Mary Margaret tag-teamed him and began hinting she was close to setting a date for marrying David and wondered whether Emma could maybe stay around a little while longer…

Kathryn, flashing a new engagement ring and a dreamy smile, had tried the same line on her a little later. Emma had gazed at her eternally hopeful friends, wondering whether to be indignant or flattered at their co-ordinated delaying tactics.

In the end she had flatly told them all that she wasn't staying and suggested Henry webcam her in on his birthday. She had then stood, grabbed her bag and stalked off to the bathroom so she wouldn't have to see the crushed looks.

She just couldn't stay, she told herself again.

It was hard enough that Henry's huge eyes had followed her, his hand shooting out to squeeze her arm in a silent appeal that she gently shrugged off. She knew how this shit worked. Like a thread unravelling. If she said yes to one, they'd all pull her in. Swallow her whole. And she wasn't ready for that. She finally had a life outside this town. A life that didn't shatter all her emotional reserves on a daily basis. A life where she felt in control and strong.

Not like here at all.

As if on cue, her mind summoned images of a brunette. Regina Mills gazing at her in wonder when she had attacked Grylls, hauling the bastard off her. Regina melting into her body when they danced. And the mayor blinking up at her in naked relief when Emma had dragged her back to a seat just an hour before.

Her heart did its usual tell-tale triple flip with a half pike. She swallowed back her annoyance.

_Screw this._  She had a life without these draining emotional eddies. A life which wasn't spent trying to pick apart how much she could trust someone who had changed so drastically that she no longer knew or recognised her. The same someone who, paradoxically, she still loved in spite of everything. And who might also…

Her heart picked up the thudding pace.

Fuck it, Emma groaned. She had a good life in Boston, she told herself again. Interesting and independent – mercifully bereft of … feelings. It would be a  _relief_  when she got back to it.

_Lonely, too_ , her brain supplied traitorously, with a snicker.

She almost rolled her eyes at her own reflection.  _Come on, she could do lonely. Had done it for a lifetime. At least lonely was safe and didn't lead to that emotional chaos shit._  She swallowed again. She could live without that other shit.  _Right?_

Her brain blew her a raspberry.

Emma sighed, pushing her indecision aside for now, and gave herself one final look. She had brushed her hair until it shone, covered her bruises with make-up and now wore a red sheath that was so sexy that the swooning, gushy shop assistant selling it to her looked as if he was going to buy it for her if she didn't.

She smoothed down the material and breathed in, wondering if Regina was back yet, and what she'd be wearing. Then she cursed herself for even caring.  _Was her brain stuck in a loop over that woman? Christ._  She dumped her clothes and boots into her luggage and zipped it up. Then stood and stared at her own green eyes watching her.  _She could do this. She just had to keep it together for a few more hours…_

"Not bad, Miss Swan," came an approving, faintly mocking voice from behind her. "You do scrub up well."

Emma would know that smug voice anywhere. She took in a deep breath and turned. Regina was leaning oh-so-elegantly against the door frame and looked like she had been observing her for some time. A tiny smile danced at the edges of burgundy lips. Dark brown eyes raked her body, assessing her frankly.

_Oh hell. Pure sex on a stick._  Emma's brain fizzled, flailed for a moment and promptly died. Whatever smart-ass crack she was about to make evaporated as her eyes feasted on the mayor's outfit.

A figure-hugging midnight black dress with a plunging V-neck, and a teasing slit up one side. The hem was just low enough to be legal without looking cheap, although the length of leg on display made the blonde's throat go dry. The material clung tightly to that intoxicating perky ass in a way that Emma felt sure would be her undoing.

Her heels were stunning, patent black, with glittery edging, arching high, and giving her calves a most arresting curve.

Her hair had been fixed back to its flicky flirty usual magnificence, and make-up covered any minor flaws left over from their run-in with the bear.

"I take it you approve," Regina stated, humor wafting through her words like a film of smoke, when Emma seemed content to just gape.

The blonde nodded mutely, her lips parting. She nervously licked them but couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Good, because I want to show these people how beautifully we dance together, dear," the brunette said in a tone dripping with self-assurance. "I want all their provincial jaws on the floor. Especially Miss Lucas, who fancies herself as Storybrooke's queen of the dance floor. Although to be fair her expertise probably revolves around poles," Regina added acerbically, offering a biting flash of white teeth.

She stepped inside Emma's personal space and dropped her voice to a husky purr that sent shivers up the blonde's spine. "It's time we disabused her of that idiotic notion of superiority. And I want her – all of them – gaping in wonder at us as we …  _mesh_." She flashed a brilliant smile.

Emma's eyes went wide at the mental picture. Her fingers twitched nervously against her dress, smoothing it over and over again. Regina was watching her with a dangerous expression tinged with something else.

She finally identified it.

_Hunger_.

Emma briefly shut her eyes and croaked: "Why?"

"Because we can, dear," Regina answered smoothly, as if amused at being asked something so obvious. "It will be entertaining to show off our secret skills. I rather like the idea, don't you?"

"But won't people think, uh, you know, we're …" She faded out.

Regina raised an eyebrow. She shifted until her lips were aligned against the shell of the blonde's ear. A wave of heady perfume hit Emma again.  _God, that smell._  Her knees almost gave way.

"Dear, I used to dance with the previous sheriff at official events all the time," she husked. "It came with our jobs. No one assumed anything of it. It was simply etiquette."

Emma could feel the warm breath next to her neck and slid her eyes up to the hooded ones observing her closely. "You seriously think the people of Storybrooke expect their female mayor and female former sheriff to dance together because it's  _etiquette_? Seriously?"

She took a step back, breaking the seductive spell. Emma's breathing sounded too harsh and loud in the silence that descended, abrasive to her own ears.

"Miss Swan, if you don't want to dance with me, just say so," Regina finally said darkly. "It's not compulsory. It was merely a suggestion."

"I do actually," Emma said. Her eyes fell on the black dress with its addictive lines and curves. She gave a small grin. "It would be a waste of such a beautiful dress not to."

"Ah I see. We can't waste the dress, can we?" Regina drawled. She took Emma by the hand and led her out of the bathroom. Emma squirmed a little at the gesture, well aware her hands were faintly clammy from nerves. She wondered if the other woman had noticed. Regina showed no sign of letting go.

"I am just a little confused," Emma finally said quietly, to break the silence more than anything, as they reached the thrumming main hall. Her eyes flickered across to the couples dancing sedately in the center of the room, ringed by most of Storybrooke's residents who were drinking, talking, and watching the shifting shapes from the half shadows.

"By what, dear?"

The music switched from country to a sensuous Latin beat that Emma could feel vibrating all the way up her body like a powerful rhythmic pulse. She wondered if Regina had planned this – given some signal to the DJ, the town's pharmacist. If she had, the brunette was not letting on.

Emma hesitated for only a moment and took a step closer, slipping into the mayor's arms. The sensation was immediate, sending a thrill arcing through her body like live electricity. She almost stepped back again. Instead she took a steadying breath and leaned in to be heard over the loud music. "I thought you didn't want anyone to guess that we might be a … uh … thing. Then or now."

Regina had begun to sway in time with the beat and unconsciously Emma fell into step, their bodies remembering how to synchronise their movements to perfection. Regina lifted her eyebrow mockingly.

"It's just a dance, dear," she said. Her eyes glittered in the half light of the room's hundreds of candles. It gave her a faintly sinister glow as the shadows fell across her eyes. "Nothing more. It is not like we're engaged in sexual congress on the dance floor. Is it?"

The faintly challenging tone was back and as familiar as Emma's worn old boots. The mayor's head tilted then, illuminated briefly in the flickering light and Emma looked at her uncertainly once more. Regina Mills. Mystery wrapped up in an enigma. She would likely not be peeling back any secrets or motivations from her tonight.

She sighed and glanced around the room to be met with predictably curious stares. There was no doubt they had become the centre of attention.

All eyes were pinned on the arresting couple who once had fought each other like a snake and mongoose, and who now moved like one exotic, flawless creature, swirling and twisting, swirls of blonde bleeding and melding into chocolate brown.

Emma's mind whirred, unsettled.  _What the hell were they doing? This had to look exactly what it was: Two women who liked each other a shitload more than had been previously advertised._

"Emma," Regina interrupted her spiralling panic, with a determined whisper. "Stop thinking. Relax. It's just a dance."

The blonde glanced back to brown eyes too near for comfort. Eyes encouraging her silently to just let go. Eyes that were burning with something much more …

It was easy to get lost there.

She nodded.

It was also easy to forget the rest of the world when encircled in Regina's arms, feeling the shifting of her body against hers, smelling the exotic spicy perfume, experiencing the power of muscles drawing her forward and back, twisting sideways and swaying to the rhythms. The same heady, primal thrill she had felt in Boston's ladies club came back and she found herself pressing closer in spite of herself, eradicating any bit of space, pressed against her breasts, belly and hips, lured in by the sheer sensual charisma the other woman exuded like a musk.

Her body felt it was where it belonged - even as she knew it was one of the most dangerous places on earth for her to be. Regina's searching eyes swallowed hers once more and Emma was swept away, lost in dark, sensuous thoughts. Whose were they, though? Hers or Regina's? She could no longer tell.

Regina offered her an all-too-knowing smile.

Emma felt the arms tighten possessively around her and for a second it was almost suffocating being this close to the woman who had haunted her thoughts for so long. For a moment she considered resisting. Running. Getting the hell out of there and just driving back to her safe, ordered life away from burning eyes and slowly curling, seductive lips.

But her body had other ideas. And in one moment she had had the thought; in the next she felt herself fully let go, muscles turning to molten liquid. She became the music. Became an extension of the woman in her arms.

The song's tempo was increasing and she felt Regina subtly shift gears and become just that little bit more showy, snapping out the sharp turns and precise executions with the expertise of a master bull fighter. Emma matched her move for move. It became a competition - outsmarting, outdancing, besting each other. Who was the better dancer? Emma smiled.

She could see Regina's eyes, glowing with enjoyment, almost laughing, well aware of this unspoken challenge. Their motions became a controlled, fiery, fascinating demonstration of sheer stunning talent.

They had yet to make a single misstep and Emma felt the thrill that comes with excellence. Pride. Confidence. Joy. As the song's crescendo peaked, Emma could not keep the wonder off her face. She had never danced better, or felt better. When they moved as one...

She paused.

It was … perfection.

Emma had never been perfection. Emma was a mess. Unloveable. Unfixable. She was always constantly perplexed that not everyone understood that.

And yet in this moment she was perfection. She glowed. And Regina watched her, transfixed, with a small pleased smile dancing across her shadowed features.

Most of the other dancers had moved away to give them more space and were staring at the unexpectedly riveting masterclass being performed for them. Beyond the pounding Latin beat, the room was unnaturally silent. No one moved a muscle, no one spoke, nor clinked a glass nor coughed. Emma stared in amazement at the frozen scene all around her.

Regina's whispered "focus" snapped her attention back.

They finished in the end with a frenzy of tight, complex manoeuvres and a flourish that looked like they had practised this dance together for years. Emma wondered if that was what the town now thought: That they had spent their days fighting, and their nights dancing.

She stood still at last, mute, as they took in the deafening cheers, whistles and claps. Emma finally provided an awkward bow that only appeared to amuse her dance partner even more greatly.

Emma shook her head, suddenly embarrassed, uncertain where to look. Mary Margaret was staring with affection and longing, her foot tapping; Matt and Archie stood, wrapped in each other's arms, taking it all in with rapt attention. And Ruby looked like she had swallowed a rhinoceros whole, her eyes bulging while her mouth opened and shut in astonishment.

Emma chuckled. "Happy now?" she quietly asked the mayor who looked far too smug to be entirely healthy.

Regina gathered her back into her arms for a slower dance.

"Indeed. I believe we had the desired effect. Now what's so funny?"

"Just wondering what everyone is thinking," Emma said truthfully.

"I am certain it would be something along the lines of supreme jealousy," Regina retorted and could not have looked more delighted at the idea. "Although really, who can blame them? They're only human."

"So modest, Madame Mayor. But this was what you wanted: To show off your fancy moves to your constituents."

"What makes you think that was what I wanted to show off?" She cocked an eyebrow and dipped the blonde. As she held her parallel to the ground, their hearts thumping in sync and a hand emanating warmth through the thin red material criss-crossing Emma's back, Regina looked into her face and whispered: "How do you know I wasn't showing something  _else_  off?"

Emma's mouth fell open. The mayor suddenly snapped her back to vertical with a cheeky smirk.

"This was you staking a claim on me? Presumptuous much?" Emma gaped.

Regina lips twitched and she waved a regal hand. "My dear, just shuffling the deck in my favour. I find it helps to win the hand if everyone else knows it's their turn to fold."

"And by everyone you mean Ruby?"

Regina eyed her for a moment. "Certainly. And anyone else who might be under the misapprehension you are presently … available."

Emma shook her head. "You are impossible."

"Thank you, dear."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Yes it was. I am well aware you are secretly flattered I would go to these lengths."

Emma looked away unable to deny it and unwilling to agree.

More dancers filtered out onto the floor now the music was less frenetic and Emma could see Mary Margaret had convinced David to take the plunge. She winced a few times as the teacher only just got out of the way of his two left feet. The man had the dance-floor prowess of a drunken water buffalo.

Mary Margaret glanced ruefully at her and then at her date's unco-ordinated feet and the blonde stifled a laugh.

Ruby danced up to them, with Henry in her arms. Her son was frowning as though trying to remember his steps. The tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth as he concentrated very hard. He might barely come up to the waitress's chest but he was already vastly better on his feet than David.

"Oh my god, you two, where'd you learn to dance like that!" Ruby demanded as she swirled over to them. "You just blasted us all out of the water. You're all anyone can talk about. There's a betting pool going that Emma used to be a dance teacher. Someone else is claiming you did a dance show off Broadway. But no one can figure out where you got your moves from at all, Madame Mayor. You certainly didn't show that killer shizzle off with Graham."

"Miss Lucas, you have no idea what I am capable of," Regina purred languidly. "There are many skills I possess that I have not yet felt the need to share."

Ruby gave an impressed snort. "Yeah, well OK, after tonight I am never doubting that ever again. What about you, Ems, where'd you learn that?"

"Sadie's Strip Club and Bordello."

Henry stopped staring at his shuffling feet and his head snapped up, eyes wide. "What's a bordello?"

Regina's outraged expression almost made Emma burst out laughing. She stopped herself just in time but her shoulders still shook. Regina glared even harder.

"Ah kid, it's a dancing joint I was undercover at in order to catch a perp," she told her son. She shrugged. "Three or four months it took – and I got a lot of practice in. Not to mention a lot of tips."

Ruby snickered, then caught Regina's unamused expression.

"Come on Henry, let's leave your mothers to show off some more," she said hastily. "Besides I need a break."

The pair disappeared into the crowd.

"Can you try to remember he's only 11 once in a while, dear?" Regina said tartly. "I am trying to protect him from the seedier side of life."

"Well I was just being honest – and I can't help it if  _I am_  from the seedier side of life."

Regina glared once more and Emma elbowed her playfully. "You notice our son knows what a strip club is? This isn't all on me."

"I have no doubt you corrupted him on that score at an earlier time."

Emma shrugged. "Just be grateful he didn't ask something really tricky. Like if we're dating. He had that look in his eye."

The blonde hesitated. "I do think Henry suspects," she continued softly. Emma had seen the way he had been studying them as they danced, his mouth forming a perfect O as though some blinding insight had suddenly appeared in his smart little brain.

She felt the other woman's arms tighten reflexively. Then the arms relaxed again. She heard the brunette sigh against her.

"Actually he knew just before I left, I think."

"What! How?" Emma's head reared back in surprise.

"It was just something he said as I was about to pull away to go and find you. He may not have meant it that way. But now I think possibly he did."

"What did he say?"

"That love has the power to fix anything."

Emma exhaled. "If only that were true."

"You disagree? This from the woman who thinks wedding vows are people's happy endings writ large."

Regina eyed Emma closely, an unfathomable expression on her face. The blonde shook her head.

"I think when you have a ton of water under the bridge, the L-word can't fix everything all on its own. It's not a magic pill you know."

The slow song came to an end and they stopped dancing but didn't move, standing in each other's arms.

Regina stayed silent and Emma frowned.

"Regina? You think love is a magic pill?" she asked.

"I never said that."

The mayor stepped away from Emma and her tone was suddenly unfailingly polite. "Well, dear, I promised the grooms I would make a speech."

Emma nodded slowly, a little startled by the shift. "OK. I think I will go and hit the fruit punch Ruby has been raving about. I'll catch you in a bit."

"Thank you for the dance, Miss Swan." Brown eyes assessed her, giving away nothing.

"Back to that title again?"

The mayor's mouth twitched. "It seemed appropriate."

* * *

Ruby rushed over to Emma as she was pouring her third glass full of punch.  _God this stuff was good – if a little potent._

"I knew it," the waitress declared conspiratorially, clearly pleased Henry was now elsewhere so she could work her friend for undiluted gossip. "You two SO have the hots for each other. It's like I can smell it. And the way you move together! My god, Emma, you dance like superstars. Just perfection."

"Mmm," Emma muttered agreeably, slurping the drink. She enjoyed the fruity alcoholic burn as it slid down her throat. "But dancing well together is not a metaphor for life, Rubes."

"Pfft," the waitress disagreed, then gave Emma a frown. "Hey slow down on that stuff - I spiked it myself. It's, like, 40% the mayor's cider."

"That explains it," Emma grinned easily, as her head began to buzz pleasantly. "God she is wicked, right down to her booze."

Her eyes warmed as the woman in question approached the head of the room, taking a microphone.

"Shit you've got it bad," Ruby muttered.

Emma ignored her and took another sip of punch. Her brain was becoming a world of mellow. Life suddenly felt pretty damn good.

"Welcome, everyone, to the speeches part of Matt and Archie's wedding," Regina began. "Don't worry, I will keep mine short so everyone can get back to flirting and getting drunk." The room dissolved into laughter and the brunette's eyes drifted to the punch bowl as she said the last words.

_Oh hilarious._  The blonde narrowed her eyes and took a pointed sip from the glass.

Regina smirked.

The mayor's voice was smooth and sultry and Emma found herself helping herself to a fourth glass as she listened to glowing accolades for both men: Matt's selfless dedication to aiding Storybrooke's youth. Archie helping those who had lost their way. Emma was so lulled into punch-induced, Regina-enhanced sensory bliss that she almost missed it.

And then the words the mayor was saying slammed into her consciousness with the force of an earthquake.

Emma thumped her glass onto the table in astonishment. The juice slopped over the edge and she shook her drenched hand in irritation. Punch sprayed everywhere. She cursed.

"Emma?" Ruby asked, startled. "What is it?"

"D-did you hear that?"

Ruby stared at her, puzzled. "What? The mayor thinks Archie does a great job?"

Emma scowled, shaking her head. "Not that bit. Hell," she hissed. "I am in a parallel universe. This is completely nuts. I need some air."

Before Ruby could answer, Emma strode to the door, snatching up her coat as she left. She turned back, just before stepping outside, and saw the mayor pause mid-speech and lock eyes on her. Emma stared back, cataloguing the confusion, dismay and a hint of annoyance. Then Regina turned to the crowd and resumed speaking with her patented politician's smile.

Emma hated that stupid fake smile.

She shut the door firmly and glowered.

* * *

It was cold, and the stars were beginning to come out in the early evening. Emma's nose took in the unmistakeable smells of a working stable – horses, manure, straw. It was about as far removed from her life in Boston as she could imagine. She could hear faint applause and cheers behind her. And then more murmuring. Eventually the music was starting up again. She had found a low bench near a neighboring building and sat, staring unseeingly up at the heavens.

There was nothing about this place even remotely familiar to the way she lived her life. She wondered yet again what on earth she was doing here.

The hall door groaned open in the distance and Emma tensed, wondering who had come looking for her. She heard slow, methodical footsteps.

"Hello Emma," a soft masculine voice said beside her.

_Of course._

She turned and tried a smile.

"Hey," she said. Her eye slid over Dr Hopper's expensive suit. "You look great by the way."

"Thanks. And thanks for coming. Nice night?"

"Yeah. Good, um, service earlier, too. Really pleased for you both."

Emma scuffed at the dirt in her heels and then felt ridiculous. She wasn't wearing her boots so the action looked fairly absurd.

"Something on your mind?" Archie asked kindly. "I saw you rush out of Regina's speech. When she mentioned…"

"Yeah," Emma cut him off. "That was … unexpected." She still felt appalled and shook her head as if it could rattle the words from her mind.

"How did you do it?" she blurted. "Turn Regina into …  _Her_."

Archie looked at her fondly. "You know I can't talk about it in detail. Confidentiality and so on. Why don't you ask Regina?"

Emma snorted. "I don't even know  _that_  Regina. Who the hell is she now? Because I seriously don't recognise her." She shifted her arms across her chest to ward off the cold. Her mind seemed pleasantly woozy though and she heard the words tumble out before she could stop them.

"Sometimes I wish she'd just go back to who she was."

Silence fell and in the awful, yawning gap, Emma realised the words had fallen from her own lips. Her hand flew to her mouth, faintly appalled.

Archie eyed her curiously. "You would really wish that on her?"

"I … uh… no. Maybe." She frowned darkly. "I dunno." She hugged her ribs tighter.

"That other Regina was in a lot of pain. I know you know that."

"Yeah." Emma bit her lip. "I do. I don't want her to be in pain. But this Regina is … hell … not anything like the one I knew. She's perfect. And sooo open. And honest. Not all dark and dangerous and furious."

"You preferred her dark and dangerous and furious?" Archie asked. "Really?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

Emma laughed mirthlessly. "In a way." She shrugged. "OK, maybe just sometimes. I know you'll never understand. But despite it all, I related to who she was. I have nothing in common with this perfect freaking Stepford Mayor you turned her into."

"I wouldn't say  _nothing_ ," Archie smiled gently, taking his glasses off to wipe them. "You two dance beautifully together. You seem to get on better in general, too. Not fighting suits you."

Emma shrugged. "Maybe. Although life was a lot more interesting before."

Archie laughed. "I don't doubt it. I also suspect you don't believe half of what you're saying tonight. I don't think you want me to remind you of the hell you put each other through. Or especially how hard she punished you and for how long. So may I make a suggestion, Emma?"

She gave a tired nod.

"Just be careful what you wish for. Regina has made no secret of the fact she is trying hard to become better. But speaking generally, anyone with demons and flaws – shades of grey if you will - can never become perfectly white, for want of a better word. Actually no one ever can be. Despite how perfect you seem to think the mayor is now, if you spend any real time with her you'll see Regina actually goes from grey to white and back to grey again pretty regularly.

"So get to know her again, Emma. The Regina you know is not gone, she is actually a lot closer to the surface than you think. For good and for ill."

Emma looked at him in disbelief. "If you say so." She huffed out a breath and finally said what was on her mind. "I just cannot believe she admitted  _that_  out loud. To all of Storybrooke! It was so far out of character. Pulling crap like that just reminds me she's not  _her_  anymore."

"Emma – everyone already knew before she said it. It's a small town. People have been seeing her enter my office for appointments for more than 18 months now. And she changed dramatically. Everyone noticed that, too. So sharing a small joke about seeing me professionally was not really as shocking as you might think."

"Still in a parallel universe," Emma grumbled. "Come on, Archie, she never showed weakness like that before."

"You think it's weak that she  _admitted_  she got help? Or that she got help?"

Emma paused and stared at him. "The first one."

Archie eyed her assessingly.

Emma felt like a bug under glass and rushed to explain. "Look, my Regina would NEVER have said that in public – she'd have sooner ripped out her own tongue first - and we both know it."

"Now she's 'your' Regina? I thought you were leaving in a few day's time?"

"I am."

"Then why do you care how she's changed?"

Emma bit her lip pensively. Good point. She exhaled heavily.

"I guess it doesn't matter. You're right. This is so dumb to give a shit about when I'm not even staying."

Archie rose, his eyes twinkling. "Sure you're not," he grinned. "OK now I have my own gorgeous dance partner to go light up the room with. We're nowhere near your league of course, but Matt can really shake it when he wants to."

Emma shook herself out of her glum mood, remembering why she was here. "Sorry Archie. You didn't need me carrying on like this on your wedding day. Go and have fun."

"It's no bother, Emma. If you're still here next week when we're back from our camping honeymoon I'm happy to chat some more. But you're not coming back inside now?"

"I think I'll chill here for a bit and clear my head."

Archie nodded and rested a hand on her shoulder. "She really isn't as different as you think. The core of who she is remains as you remember her. Her way of dealing with things is what is actually different."

He smiled and headed back inside. Emma watched him go, mulling over that.

_Grey is white is grey._

She wondered what was wrong with her that at this moment she preferred her Regina Mills jet black.

That was seriously messed up. Emma stared pensively out into the darkness.

_Well hell_.

 


	46. CREATURES OF HABIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a fortnight of writing and I thought it would be the death of me. But no, still here! I wrote it before Ch45 actually. Anyway, I hope it explains a lot about Emma's behavior. And yes, my baby is finally on the way to healing, too.

The balloons were half deflated when Emma returned to the reception hall; the music now down to a lone karaoke machine – complete with Granny, swaying, eyes shut, belting out  _All By Myself,_ with the microphone in a death grip. The hundreds of candles were little more than nubs, providing even darker mood lighting.

Emma had slunk into the corner near the punch bowl, her heels crunching on rice and confetti and put her feet up. She helped herself to more of the fruit-tinged booze while she watched the remnants of wedding goers through lidded, bleary eyes.

A few couples she vaguely recognised, long past merry, were clinging to each other, shuffling in tight circles on the dance floor. Ruby was off to one side, helping the caterers pack up their gear, and trying to hit on the group's well-proportioned head of catering. Emma had to admire her persistence because from where she sat, the muscled masterpiece seemed clearly to have a thing for the snappily suited sous chef.

Matt and Archie were long gone – off to their rustic camping honeymoon involving some three-star log cabin. Or so the rumors had it.

Her eyes had scoured everywhere for Regina and Henry the moment she returned, before coming up empty. Both relief and regret flashed through her in equal measure. She downed another drink in one hit, the heavy notes of apple cider scorching her throat pleasantly, and tried not to analyse her shitty reaction too much.

A shadow fell across her and Emma glanced up to find Mary Margaret blotting out her view of a fading party long past its prime – a scene that had been matching her declining mood perfectly.

"If you're looking for Henry, Regina took him home." The woman put her hands on her hips almost challengingly. Emma squinted up at her, wondering if she was requiring a response.

When neither spoke, the teacher sat beside her uninvited and leaned over, prising the punch glass out of Emma's grip. "And I think that's enough, Em."

"Hey!" The blonde protested indignantly as the liquid was spirited away. She frowned.

"Just tell me," the teacher began, " _Were_  you looking for Henry?"

"No. Well not so much."

"That's what I was afraid of. Were you even looking for Regina?"

Emma bit her lip.

"Emma? You know I love you, right?"

"Oh hell. Conversations that start like this never end well."

"I think you need an intervention."

"Aren't you supposed to have more than one person for one of those?" Emma offered a lazy smirk she didn't feel. Her head was starting to lose its bleary haze in favour of just leaning towards shitastic.

"If you hadn't been hiding from everyone for half the night, I am sure we could have had the full set of friends and loved ones. Although if you hadn't been running from us, we wouldn't need an intervention in the first place."

Emma gave her a baleful stare. "OK, let's hear it then." She reached for the punch glass that Mary Margaret had just snatched out of her grasp.

"I mean it Em," the brunette tsked, shifting it further away. "You never used to drink this much before you left Storybrooke. And you are way over your limit tonight."

"Well I am not driving so what does it matter?"

"Have you even been paying attention? You do know your ride went home about two hours ago? Along with Henry, who looked pretty disappointed that you disappeared on him."

"Fuck," Emma ground out and dropped her head to the table.

"I understand you might think you have grounds for dodging Regina, but Henry? Come on."

"I have my reasons.  _Good_  reasons."

Emma waved her hand half-heartedly, not bothering to lift her head. Besides, she didn't have to look up to see the disappointment etching the other woman's pinched face.

"And what are these 'good reasons'?"

"Not for public consumption. Look, Mary Margaret, I appreciate that you care…"

"It's not just me. Everyone's starting to get really worried about you. And I have never seen Regina look so upset. You ditched her, you know. And I heard what you said to her when she sat down with us at the wedding service. You promised her you wouldn't do that."

That got Emma's attention and she sat up suddenly. An instant headache from alcohol over-indulgence flared through her temple and she groaned softly. Mary Margaret shook her head and sighed.

"Did she look really upset?" Emma asked anxiously.

"What do you care Emma? You're pretty plastered."

"Yeah well, what can I say? I am a lousy date. A lousy mother. A lousy friend."

Mary Margaret fell silent and watched her former roommate's face begin to crumple.

"So… You want to tell me what's going on with you?"

Emma shook her head. "I can't."

"You do remember that I already know what happened between you – back before you left?"

Emma blinked at her for a moment, as if trying to focus. "Yeah."

"And I was right there when you left town. I knew you didn't want to go. I saw the text - Regina ordered you to leave."

"Yes," Emma mumbled flatly, barely coherent. "She shattered my heart into a million pieces."

"So, what – are you trying to break her heart now? Is that what this is? And everyone else is, like, collateral damage?"

"Hell no!" Emma said angrily. "No!" She slammed her hand on the table and looked at Mary Margaret outraged. The glasses all rattled and the handful of diehard dancers glanced their way.

"Then, Em, sweetie, whatever you're trying to do here, you're making a bit of a mess of it. And hurting everyone else who loves you."

"That sounds about right," Emma said mournfully.

"So just tell me why?"

Emma drew random lines with her finger on the table, a bleak expression crossing her features.

"I have been walking around tonight, thinking really hard about it. And I-I think – I have become the shittiest person."

Emma stared at the table in front of her. She felt sick to her stomach even saying it out loud. She continued, under Mary Margaret's thoughtful gaze.

"When I talked to Archie tonight it made me realise I wanted Regina back to being dark and angry."

"No Emma! But why?"

"Because it's the Regina I know. The one I relate to and get. And the one w-who … needed me."

"Oh." Mary Margaret shook her head. "That's really …"

"Yeah. Fucked up. I know."

"I was going to say sad."

"I fail on every level as a human being. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Emma covered her face in her hands.

"You're afraid. It's human. And before you beat yourself up some more, you're forgetting something really important."

"What?" Emma dropped her hands and slid bloodshot eyes over to Mary Margaret.

"You know it's wrong. You don't accept this at all. You're not telling me it's OK to want the devil you know. You actually feel it's a personal failure for feeling that way."

Emma chewed her lip for a moment and tried to sit up. She ended up with a lopsided slouch.

"Yeah…"

"Yes. So here's the other thing that I know which you may have forgotten in your little misery session tonight: Regina Mills is in love with you."

Emma stared at her in disbelief.

"You must know that, Emma."

The blonde shook her head. "She doesn't do romantic complications like that. She's too efficient to go all-in. She's into less rather than more."

"Have you asked?"

"Not lately. But I did a year and a half ago and we know how well that ended up."

"I think your information on the mayor's feelings might be a little out of date, Emma. I also think after tonight, the least you owe her is an apology and a really honest talk."

Emma eyed her. "I know that." She sighed and shut her eyes briefly. " _I do_. Hence all the Dutch courage." She waved her hand towards the depleted punch bowl.

"So will you do it?"

Emma's hands twisted and she forced them in her lap. "I… I am afraid."

"I know."

"She could crush my heart again." A whisper.

"Yes, she definitely could."

"You're not helping."

"But I don't believe she wants that."

"I couldn't cope if she did it to me again. I have next to nothing left – I'm hanging by a thread as it is. I think that would be it for me." She hung her head in defeat. "You can't blame me for trying for a bit of self preservation."

"Emma, this is the price we pay for love. The risk. But the rewards are incredible, too. Trust me, I know."

"Oh." Emma's hand reached out and gave her friend's a squeeze. "That reminds me - I really am pleased for you and David. I am glad you found happiness. Sorry if I didn't say it earlier. I seriously am a lousy friend."

"You are a … distracted friend. And, by the looks of things, pretty overwhelmed. For what it's worth, I can tell you still love Regina, too."

Emma's eyebrows shot up in surprise and the other woman laughed at her expression.

"Of course if I had any doubts before, watching you rush to her rescue against that scary man at that truck stop – my goodness, Emma! You might have been killed! It was as if you were shouting your love for her from the rooftops."

Emma laughed in spite of herself.  _So close to the truth._

"What?"

"Nothing. I just … yeah. OK. Point taken. But I still don't know what to do about the fear. I barely know her anymore so it makes me not trust her. Archie says I have to get to know her and see that she's still her. But it's just so…" She swallowed and looked at the teacher anxiously. "What if she just wants to hurt me? What if…"

"Em, open your eyes. She has put it all out on the line for you, too. You think she dances like that with just anyone? Goodness – it was like a public declaration that you're hers. She never EVER did that with Graham even though I am fairly sure she wasn't going over budget reports with him at Granny's B&B every Thursday..."

"How did you…" Emma blinked in surprise. She knew for a fact Regina thought her off-the-clock antics with Graham were a state secret.

"She also drove all the way to Boston to get you," the teacher continued, ignoring the question. "And that was her third attempt. She was an absolute wreck for attempts one and two, even though she tried very hard not to show it. But Henry filled me in at school every day – and she was suffering. But she did it – all of it – for you."

Emma stared at her friend, trying to reconcile the Regina she knew with the one the teacher had just described. She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by her fears.

"Did you know she calls ME the brave one?" Emma muttered, looking down, shame filling her tone.

"Well I did see that YouTube video, so evidence indicates you do have the heart of a lion."

"More like the heart of a pussy." Emma rose and looked at her, faint hope in her eyes. "Mary Margaret, can you drive me to her place?"

"Emma - it's almost midnight!"

"She'll be awake. Trust me – I know her sleeping habits pretty well, and Saturdays she never turns in before midnight. No time like the present."

"Em, you are pretty, um, shaky. Wouldn't this be better in the morning?"

"Come on. Let's go while my resolve is solid and the Dutch courage is kicking in."

The brunette eyed her sideways, debating. "If you're sure…"

Emma swayed slightly as she nodded.

"Well I think maybe we should load you up with a few coffees first. God, you do know how crazy this is, right Emma?"

The blonde grinned. "Crazy  _right_. Oh hey, and thanks. You know – for everything."

Mary Margaret shook her head as she headed over to the caterers to ask for a pot of coffee.

"Don't thank me yet."

* * *

Regina threw off her dress moodily, not bothering to toss it in the hamper and stalked to the shower. She turned the heat up to hellishly hot, enjoying the searing sensation which tore at her skin.

She towelled down fifteen minutes later, still grinding her teeth, and pulled on her nightie, annoyed beyond all reason that Emma had broken a promise to her. She had said she would not ditch her at the wedding. She had even laughed at how preposterous such a notion was.

The mayor pursed her lips.

But then Miss Swan had scampered off. Regina stared at her clothing heaped on the floor. Angry enough to just leave it there as a testament to her mood. Then she huffed, bowed down and scooped it up, tossing it in the hamper, unable to resist being a creature of habit.

The look on Emma's face halfway through her speech had been one of shock, Regina recalled. She creased her brow in confusion as her brain played a loop of Emma storming out.  _Damn the maddening woman._

She fluffed her pillows and fell back against them with an aggrieved humph, sitting up in bed. She reached for her hand cream and began to work it into her forearms as she thought furiously.

_What on earth had Emma's reaction been all about?_  All Regina had been talking about was Archie. She sighed and snapped off her lamp and slammed the jar of cream on the side table simultaneously.

_So much for not leaving her._

But then Emma was also a creature of habit.

A rattle sounded loudly in the darkened room and Regina froze. Her brain recognised it immediately – knew it all too intimately in fact - and she twisted to look at her French doors, which were locked. She stared in disbelief.

A dark Emma Swan-shaped shadow was leaning against them, one finger tapping away on the glass like a deranged woodpecker.

In the moonlight she could just make out the other woman was still in her red dress ( _How on earth did she climb her wall in that?!_ ) looking faintly rumpled.

_And was she swaying slightly?_

Regina threw back her comforter and slid out of bed. She reached for her pale blue silk robe and knotted it firmly around herself and then stalked to the doors.

"Yes dear?" she intoned and folded her arms, glaring out through the glass.

"Regina, can I come in? It's freezing out here!"

"Shouldn't you have thought of that before you decided on a midnight crawl up my wall? Uninvited?"

"Yeah, uh, Regina, can't you chew me out INSIDE?"

Regina sighed and unlocked the doors and stepped backwards.

"Oh my god, you scaled my house wall in your heels?" Regina asked in astonishment as she stared at the dusty, scuffed heels Emma was now taking off. "Are you crazy? Don't answer that. Facts speak for themselves."

Emma swayed slightly again and leaned against the bedroom wall for support

"So?" Regina asked as she shut and locked the doors. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I didn't mean to ditch you, Regina. I came to say sorry. I didn't mean to – it's just – fuck, I really am a lousy date."

"Yes you are, Miss Swan. Something upon which we agree."

"It's Emma – for Christ's sake, call me  _Emma_."

"When it's earned. So, do share – where did you go?"

"I needed some air."

"And some alchohol, it would seem."

"Punch was really good. You should have tried it. Had your cider in it."

"Well, dear, it seems you had enough for both of us. How many glasses did you have anyway?"

"Four or five?"

"Five!"

"The first time. Then another four when I went back inside after almost everyone was gone. You had left by then."

"I didn't see the point in staying, Miss Swan. You had disappeared and Henry had to be put to bed. He was asking after you by the way. My son seemed greatly concerned you might have simply high-tailed it back to Boston without saying goodbye."

"Are you really mad?"

"Yes," Regina confirmed with a lethal glare.

Perplexingly, Emma suddenly gave a tight smile. "Good."

At Regina's mouth falling open then snapping shut, the blonde added: "Mad Regina I know very well. I get her."

She slumped against the wall, sliding down it until her bottom hit the floor. Then she folded her knees under her chin, pulling her arms around them.

"Can we talk now?" she asked quietly.

Regina stared at her, mystified.  _Hadn't they done little else for the past two days?_  "About what?"

"It's cold," Emma said. "Get back into bed. I can talk from down here."

Regina's jaw worked as she eyed the huddled blonde. She sighed, stalked back to the bed and tossed Emma a blue blanket. "Here. I don't want you complaining of frostbite tomorrow."

A wide smile split Emma's face. It lit her up and in spite of herself the brunette was struck yet again by her exquisite, inate beauty.

"What?" Regina asked irritably.

"I recognise the blanket. From when you put it around me, that first time I ever slept over."

Regina frowned. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she grumbled.

"Sure you don't. It was really thoughtful - then and now."

Regina climbed into bed and drew the thick comforter around her, saying nothing. She had no idea Emma remembered her doing that. She had thought it a weakness at the time. To care.

"I spent a lot of the night walking and thinking. That's where I went."

"Quite the feat in your condition, dear."

Emma shrugged. "I guess. I will probably feel it tomorrow. Those stupid heels weren't meant for walking."

The silence fell between them and Regina stared moodily at the shape bundled against her wall.

"Why did you run out on me tonight?" She intended it to come out demanding. Instead it sounded anxious to her own ears.

Emma leaned her head back. "Can you give me a minute on that one? I promise we will come back to it."

Regina paused and considered that.

"All right. How about why are you here?" she asked. "Is it to tell me what you have been telling everyone at the wedding that you're leaving me in two days? Henry is devastated you won't be staying for his party."

"Please don't talk to me about Henry. It's taking everything in my power not to get too close to him again if I have to leave him again in a few days. You have no idea what it's like to look at those pleading eyes and say no to him. It's like freaking torture."

"Welcome to motherhood, Miss Swan," Regina snapped. "Of course no parent or guardian in history has ever had to say 'no' to puppy dog eyes. Now I say again: why are you here?"

"I wanted to say sorry. And I have a really important question I need answered."

More silence fell between them and Regina waited. Then sighed.

"Well? Are you going to ask it or pass out dramatically on my bedroom floor?"

Emma actually laughed. "Yeah I remember  _this_  Regina. Archie was right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I was going to say 'don't ever change' but that's a loaded statement coming from me right now."

"Are you ever going to get to the point?" Regina complained, failing to follow the seemingly random conversation.

Emma sucked in a deep breath. "I did a lot of thinking tonight, like I said. About anger for one. For a long time I have been very busy being very angry with you for telling me to leave Storybrooke."

"You've hidden it so well."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Don't. Seriously – when you have to give up everyone you know and love just because of someone else's passing whim, then you can be a bitch about this."

"Fine." Regina bit her lip. "But it wasn't… For the record, Miss Swan, it wasn't just some passing whim. And I am … um …" She petered out.

"What?"

" _Sorry_. It was a mistake. One I would never make again if I could do my time over."

Emma looked up at her, probing green eyes seeking the truth. Regina held the gaze.

"OK," Emma said quietly, and rubbed her head, "Thanks for that. I mean it. So that's part of it." She stopped again and swallowed. "Look, I haven't been doing so great at listening – I think anger shorts my brain or something – so even if you tried to tell me this before, I never heard it. But I am listening now, and I really need to know: Why did you order me to leave Storybrooke? What did I do that suddenly made you tell me to go then?"

Emma bit her lip anxiously as she stared at Regina, pain etched on her face.

Regina felt her heart sink. This particular wound still ached. For both of them, it seemed. She groaned inwardly. First Archie, now Emma. Would they ever stop asking this of her?

"You really don't know?"

"Would I ask if I knew?" Emma said in exasperation.

Regina paused a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"You asked me for  _more_ , Emma."

"And you didn't want to give me more? You know Regina, normal people just say 'eh, no thanks', not 'Get the hell out of my town and never come back'."

"Really?" Regina asked wearily. "More insults?"

"Sorry," Emma muttered. "Reflex. That's a really tender spot for me. Keep going."

"You asked me for more," Regina began again. "And I believe, in hindsight, that part of me really wanted to give you more and it … scared me to the core given the emotional situation I was in at the time. I thought we were better off apart instead of destroying each other together. You yourself pointed out how co-dependent we had become."

Regina braced herself for another round of recriminations. Instead Emma seemed to be digesting her words slowly.

"So you decided, for both our sakes, to split us up, to – what - save us?" Emma asked flatly.

Regina nodded. Then she realised Emma couldn't see that in the darkness. She cleared her throat. "Essentially. And it worked, I suppose. Emotionally we're far better equipped to handle a relationship now, if we want to." Regina glanced over to her, wondering if the other woman agreed.

Shame and hurt crossed the blonde's face. Regina frowned, trying and failing to understand it. "Miss Swan?"

Emma shook her head and hugged her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them.

"What if I hadn't asked for more?" she asked dully. "If I had accepted less? If I had relented that day in your study and let you screw my brains out against the wall. What would have happened to us do you think?"

Regina thought about it for a moment, puzzled as to why she'd bother asking such a pointless question.

"I imagine we would have begun a regular arrangement that involved sneaking around, having plenty of interludes of mindless sex."

"And then what? After the mindless secret sex. Let's say we did that for 18 months."

"I don't understand."

"Would it have ever turned into a real relationship? With mutual respect or something deeper?"

"I doubt it." Regina admitted. "Respect rarely comes from ashes. You were right to say no. We were both so broken and hurting. It could never have ended well. It's not like we are now."

Emma's head dropped into her hands. Even in the darkness Regina could see her fingers were white from pressing viciously into her skull. Emma's head snapped up.

"Can't you see? I am STILL broken, Regina.  _You're_  the one who got fixed. Not me. I slapped Band-aids on my weeping wounds and tried to forget them. You got the five-star surgery for yours. I am still the same woman who sat bawling on your doormat, hammering away at your door, begging to be let in. A total, broken screw up. I'm a wreck," she finished in an ashamed whisper.

"You can't believe that!"

"I know it." Green eyes stared at her with certainty.

"You're not a wreck. And you cannot possibly be that same woman who left Storybrooke."

"You're right. I'm much worse. Now I have empty sex as a salve, which I never did before we met. I drink far too much – like I have no 'off' button when I feel really down. And I cry a little inside whenever I think of you. I can't move on, and I can't not. I am still in love with you even though I have been fighting it like a rabid dog for a year and a half. I am trapped."

She rubbed her face in exasperation. "So seeing I am the same broken mess, and you're not – can you  _please_  tell me how this thing between us could ever work?"

Regina looked at the tear-filled eyes which silently pleaded for an answer to the question.

She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the hurt face across the room. It had never even entered her mind Emma felt as broken as she had been in Storybrooke. Regina had never stopped to consider that only she had sought out help. Emma's scars still lived and ached just below the surface.

"Tell me  _how_?" Emma asked again and Regina's eyes flicked back open. "Sometimes I think I should have just taken the 'less' you offered me, and to hell with self-respect. I would have still been a mess, sure, but I would have had you in my bed and that seems like enough some days.

"And I could have skipped all the extra doses of self-loathing, recriminations, one-night stands and benders. Everyone wins. Right? Might not have been a long-term thing but it would have to be better than this limbo hell I'm in now."

"Emma…"

"It's OK, you know. It's not even your fault, really. Shit, I am the one who lacked the courage. It's pretty funny you calling me the brave one, don't you think? From the crossroads that day at your door, now look at you and look at me. And the worst part is that I realised tonight misery really does love company."

Regina frowned, trying to understand her leap.

"The worst part is I realised I missed who you were back then, just because it was familiar and comforting and I trusted that. Broken Regina was also who you were when you needed me the most. Deep down, I liked being needed by you. And not just because I could atone for that fucked up awful day. But it felt ... really good. I know you don't need me now. That you're all perfect and fixed and shiny and new. And you're going to figure that out sooner or later and that will be that. Why would you … why would anyone … stick around for this?"

She gestured to herself, disgust written over her features. Tears were sliding down her face now and Regina had to force herself to hide her shock at how badly Emma felt about herself. She never had even guessed the depths of self-loathing in the other woman.

She knew those feelings all too well. Her own reasons and experiences, though, were not something she could share.

"Is this why you ran off tonight?" she asked hoarsely.

Emma wiped the tears gruffly with the back of her hand.

"I left because you shared something so personal in your speech that I would never have had the guts to spill. It was like this huge neon billboard shouting that you weren't the woman I knew. It showed me just how far you had come. And how far behind you I am. I don't think I can ever catch up, Regina. I don't. And sooner or later you're going to realise that too, and I am … terrified … if I say yes to what you offer, that I will be even more shattered this time when you throw me away."

Regina felt her heart clench at the guttural, wrenching pain she could hear.

She instantly was out of bed and crouching beside Emma, wrapping her arms around her.

"Emma," Regina said softly. "You think you have me all figured out. That I will see you as beyond repair, grow weary and discard you? You've been making a lot of assumptions about me. The biggest one seems to be who I am now. And I am far from perfect. I am still grumpy and flawed and occasionally condescending and smug, too …" she smiled at Emma's shocked look. "Yes, of course I am aware of that last bit. I might even practice that a bit, although I will deny it if anyone asks.

"I am also aware one of the things I very much appreciate about you is that the real me - with all its many flaws - never intimidates you one bit. You may recall that I tried to run you out of town, and you responded by chainsawing my apple tree.

"Shit, yeah I really am sorry about that…" Emma looked shamefaced.

"And so you should be, dear," Regina said, lips twitching. "But my point is, no one else would have had that audacity – or insane pigheadedness to do that. No one has ever gone toe to toe with me like you do. So who's to say you wouldn't get sick of me first, and break  _my_  heart?"

Emma frowned and wiped away a stray tear. "I don't think I could do the changes you did," she finally admitted. "I don't think I have that much strength to rebuild myself from the inside out."

Regina threaded her fingers through the blonde's hair and stroked. "Change can be frightening. But just because I am different than you remember certainly does not make me perfect. I am still a work in progress. And I am still Regina Mills, your very own hard ass, whose beloved tree you had the gall to chainsaw."

Emma offered a watery half smile. "Good to know," she said softly. "Because I have to say, perfection is both insufferable and overrated."

"Yes," Regina allowed, as a flash of Snow White shot through her brain. Her lip curled. "It certainly is."

She paused. "You know, no one has ever called me perfect before, quite the opposite in fact," the brunette mused, half to herself.

"Well … you did rock that dress tonight. Perfection doesn't even begin to describe what it did to your assets."

"That's not hard, Miss Swan, when you have my body." Regina smirked, eyes twinkling.

The blonde slapped her forearm. "God, you are annoying. Which is good, by the way, really good."

They lapsed into a companionable silence, which Regina finally broke with the only question that had been on her mind all day.

"So where does this leave us? Do you want to give us a go or do you want to run some more?"

"Is 'both' an acceptable answer?" Emma asked. She was only half joking.

"It is not," Regina said archly.

"I am still processing that question. I mean how does one deal with the most beautiful, most irritating person on the planet?" Emma suggested with a cheeky grin. "Not to mention the second-best dancer I know."

"You should talk, Miss Swan. You're impossible to deal with. You're such a flight risk we should keep a tracking bracelet on your ankle. And hardly the second-best dancer. Please, dear, my moves reigned supreme and you know it."

"Ha fucking ha."

"And don't start me on your swearing. You are a dreadful example for Henry."

"Yeah, I am truly fucked at not cursing." Emma's eyes danced.

"And your sense of humor is possibly the most juvenile I have ever encountered."

Emma sighed. "I have missed this so much. Even at our lowest there was still  _this_  between us."

"What? Silly insults and one-upmanship?"

"Companionship. And deny it all you want but you didn't waste your bad-ass insults on just anyone."

"So why not stay? Have it again. I am sure I can think up some particularly cutting barbs to remind you how much you're wanted."

"Tempting."

"I was actually being serious."

"So was I."

"So you'll stay?"

Emma bit her lip. Finally she rose, slipped on her high heels, and walked unsteadily to the door.

"I think I should go right now," she said. "I'll leave the same way I came in – I am pretty expert at shimmying these days."

Regina watched her open the balcony doors and step out, wondering whether no answer was better than an outright 'no'.

She stood and joined Emma as she crossed the threshold. One foot in, one foot out. How fitting. The blonde paused, turning back, then deliberately stepped right inside her personal space. Regina's breath caught.

"I know I was a lousy date for most of the evening but I don't want you to think I am completely without manners," Emma said with a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

"What?" Regina asked, confused.

Emma suddenly closed the gap, slipped a hand around Regina's neck and drew her to her. She pressed their lips together, kissing gently. Warmth ricocheted around her body as she felt Emma sigh and wrap both arms around her neck, pulling them closer.

In the back of her brain Regina tried to make sense of her hammering emotions. She supposed she should feel more confused, especially given nothing was resolved. Nothing fixed or sorted. She didn't even know whether Emma was staying or going. And yet this felt so right.

All other thoughts were chased from her mind as she felt the blonde deepen the kiss. Her tongue demanded entry and Regina willingly opened her mouth. Sensations danced through her body, her nipples tightened painfully against her silk nightwear, and arousal the likes she had never felt before made her press her thighs tightly together. She stifled a moan.

After a moment they both pulled back, resting foreheads against each other, breathing raggedly.

"I still don't know  _how_  this can work," Emma whispered earnestly. "But I am going to give you till Henry's birthday party to explain it to me in detail. Although I have to say, you're off to a  _really_  convincing start."

She gave a small, shy smile and blushed faintly.

Regina chuckled to hide her relief. "That would be acceptable, Emma."

"You said my name," the blonde said softly.

"You earned it. Just don't ever ditch me on a date again."

"You have a deal." The blonde stepped away from her, through the doorway, and stared at her for a long moment. "If you promise never to terrify me with your apparent perfection again."

Regina's flash of white teeth and genuine laugh were her reply.

"I make no promises."


	47. THE ENVELOPE

Emma woke with a tired groan. Her head felt like it was in a vice and her eyeballs were doing the Macarena inside her sockets. She rubbed her temples and wondered what had woken her.

A pounding noise sounded again and she uttered an anguished moan.

_Some asshole clearly didn't know that on the morning after a wedding you do not wake someone up at_  … she paused and looked at the clock on the wall…  _10.30am?_

_Shit_.

She sat up – far too quickly – and swore inventively.

She threw her feet on the floor of her room in the B&B and dragged fingers raggedly through blonde tangles as she headed for the door.

_Ugh_.

She froze and waited for the room to stop tilting like a drunken sailor. She swallowed against a rush of nausea and stood gazing at the garish, old-fashioned wallpaper as she regained her balance. For a moment she wished she hadn't turned down Mary Margaret's multiple offers that she reclaim her old bedroom last night. But three was definitely a crowd now David had moved in with the schoolteacher.

The pounding on her door resumed.

Emma, with a growl, demanded "WHAT?" as she swung it wide.

_Oh._

There stood one immaculate Regina Mills. She was outlined by the door frame wearing a grey dress, bearing a perfect smile and… Emma squinted through bleary eyes … a basket of red apples. She blinked in confusion, her mouth dropping open stupidly.

"Nice to see some things never change, dear," Regina said and made a point of dragging her eyes slowly over Emma's choice of sleepwear. It had the effect of a sarcastic rejoinder.

The blonde glanced down at her pale pink panties and white tanktop.

"Oh, right." She couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say. But she decided to try anyway.

"I figured it was Granny knocking," she muttered with a shrug. "Although we both seem to be in a time warp today." She nodded at the basket of apples. "You planning on ordering me out of Storybrooke just like my first week here?"

The mayor offered her a tiny smile. "A small joke, dear. I thought you'd appreciate it. Although nice of you to dress for your part, too." She then wordlessly pushed her way past Emma and headed into the room.

"Well sure, come in," the blonde grumbled for show, closing the door after her. She moved over to a chair by her bed and pulled on some grey yoga pants.

Regina looked vaguely disappointed at the change of attire but made no comment, instead digging through her basket and pulling out from under apples a plastic container with a reddish liquid inside. She held it out to Emma.

"Drink," she ordered with a tone that brooked no dissent.

"I, uh, no thanks," Emma said eyeballing it with distaste. "Had my fill with your cider/punch thingy last night. I think I'm off liquids for the foreseeable future. Especially, ah, whatever the hell that pond scum is."

"This, my dear, is a guaranteed hangover cure, developed by me years ago. It is highly effective, especially against the worst effects of too much apple cider."

Emma's eyes shifted from Regina and back to the plastic container. She took it from her hesitantly and unscrewed the lid. Her nose wrinkled at its noxious smell.

" _Fuck!_  What the hell is in this stuff," she said, recoiling. Then the rest of Regina's sentence registered. "Wait -  _you_  tested this out? Cos I can't picture you getting plastered enough to even need to come up with a cure for your cider."

"Let's just say necessity is the mother of invention," Regina suggested with a knowing smile. "I learned very early on where my limits were when it came to my cider. I developed this in the process. Now drink up or sit around moaning about your pounding head for the rest of the day. And I know you have a migraine so don't bother denying it," she added when Emma opened her mouth to argue. "If you don't drink, you will not be of much use to anyone today."

Emma's mouth clanged shut again and she eyed the crimson concoction dubiously. The mayor put her hands on her hips and impatiently thrummed her fingers against her waist.

"So what's planned for today?" Emma stalled as she sniffed again before recoiling in dismay.

"Drink first, answers second."

Emma sighed and then threw the drink down her throat, gagging when it slid past her appalled tastebuds. Her eyes bulged. It was as awful as she feared.

"Gah!" she exclaimed and slammed down the container on her bedside table. "Am I being Punk'd? That stuff is freaking revolting." She bent down to look through her bag, sure she had some peppermints stashed somewhere.

"I have no clue what 'punk'd' is but I assure you in ten minutes you'll be ready to wrestle an ogre."

Emma looked at her dubiously. "You do realise since ogres don't exist we can't prove your theory isn't complete and utter crap."

Regina sighed. "Are you always so difficult after a night of alcohol indulgence?"

Emma suddenly felt ashamed. "Yeah, point taken. I'm a pretty shitty drunk. OK, while we wait for my supposedly miraculous recovery, want to tell me what your grand plans are?"

As she asked, she slid back in bed, tucking knees under her blankets. "Or we could just have a relaxing Sunday sleep-in. That way, with you here, at least the scenery in this retro dive is improved. Have to say wallpaper roses and 1960s furnishings aren't my thing."

"Would you prefer to stay at my home?"

Emma froze and glanced at the mayor who suddenly looked uncomfortable. As though she feared the answer.

"What?"

"Well I have a guest room." Regina bit her lip for a moment and then thinned her lips into a neutral line. "I know Henry would love to see more of you. And … so would I."

Her eyes slid over to the blonde, hope not entirely hidden.

Emma sat forward and hugged her legs, covered in a blanket, thinking.

The silence dragged on and Regina broke it. "Only if you would like, of course. But you have put me on a tight deadline. And it would help us make the most of your time here."

Emma stared at her, trying, with some difficulty, to understand what she was saying as her brain was still swimming.

"Henry's birthday," Regina added. "Your deadline. Remember?"

It all came back in a rush and Emma did indeed remember. She put her hand over her mouth as everything she had said and done last night came back. Ditching the party mid Regina's speech. Ditching Henry. Mary Margaret's half-assed intervention.

"Tell me you haven't changed your mind about staying," Regina whispered hoarsely, watching her expression closely.

"God no. No!" Emma said quickly, as she saw real fear flit across the other woman's face. "I still plan to stay the week. I realised last night that  _I_  might be a complete mess, but I have never seen anyone who hates failing as much as  _you_  do. I think you might actually be able to find a way. Even if I can't see one – maybe it's just because I haven't called in the big guns until now. And you're the biggest gun I know. You're like a freaking Goliath of that can-do shit. Hell, just look at how far you've come."

Emma's fingers began plucking at the wool on her blankets, trying to stem the returning fears that immediately began to hammer at the base of her skull once more. She was certainly no Regina when it came to self-help. She could use a drink. She licked her lips and frowned at the feeling that had been way too common of late.

But when she looked up at the mayor, the brunette was watching her with an expression that made Emma's breath catch. All thoughts of drowning herself in a Jim Beam or six instantly vanished.

Regina smiled. "Well I have been called determined before," she said with a look that seemed to hide more than it shared. "Never Goliath, though. I have some ideas. But first – are you feeling any better yet?"

Emma thought about that for a moment and realised the pounding had stopped.

"Yeah, actually. Hey - that gunk worked. Do I even want to know what was in the stuff?"

"No, you definitely do not."

"Thought so." Emma patted the side of her bed and looked at Regina.

Regina sat down and cleared her throat.

"You're coming over to my place for lunch," the mayor began. "You should make up for lost time with Henry. And I thought you might do the honors in telling him you have decided to be here for his birthday."

Emma was amazed. "You left that for me?" she asked. "I would have thought you'd want to play the hero for getting me to stay and everything."

Regina regarded her with a faint hint of censure. "This isn't about my ego or yours. This is about Henry. And all he wants right now is you. And whether you know it or not, you need him around you now, too."

A silence fell.

"OK," Emma finally said. "So I'll hang with you and Henry."

Regina nodded, satisfied. "That is for starters. Ruby and Kathryn and some others have 'booked' you in for the afternoon to 'show you what you're missing' I believe they said. I didn't enquire as to the details but I suggested alcohol might be better left off the menu. So apparently something called 'mocktails' is making its Storybrooke debut this afternoon. Miss Blanchard also wishes to cook dinner for you tonight. Doubtlessly you'll have hours of fun."

The blonde eyed her in confusion, trying to detect the sarcasm in the last comment. Weirdly, she could find little. More like wry amusement at the most.

"You are endorsing me going off bonding with Mary Margaret for hours?" she suddenly asked. "You hated her worse than the molten pits of Hell."

Regina gave a small shrug. "Perhaps," she offered vaguely. "But anyone who makes you understand your value to us is a worthy companion."

"My 'awesome' value," Emma mumbled. " _Right_."

"I know you believe that," Regina said quietly. "I'm sorry you doubt your worth so much. So I brought you something."

She reached over to her basket again. She dug down and pulled out some envelopes.

"Open one every night before bed. I may not be able to fix what you feel is wrong in only a week, but Emma the chasm you see between us is not nearly so wide as you think. Appearances can be deceptive."

She rose.

"Be at my place at noon for lunch with Henry. Try to be punctual. I know it is not in your genetic makeup but do make a rare exception for us."

Emma cocked her head in amusement. "Were you saving that barb up?" she drawled.

"I'd hate you to think I no longer cared enough to insult you. Although I admit I am a little out of practice. Just give me time."

She leaned forward over the bed and hesitated. Then she kissed Emma lightly on the lips, lingering. Enough for her intention to be clear, her interest to be registered. Then she pulled away.

Emma smelt Regina's familiar fragrance, and her heart began to thud.  _So predictable_   _her foolish heart._  She swallowed and watched the other woman turn to leave.

"Oh and next time," Regina tossed over her shoulder as she curled her fingers sensuously around the brass doorknob, "ascertain who is at the door before showing off your undergarments. Because the idea of you parading around like that for just anyone is  _most_  unacceptable to me."

Dancing eyes fixed on Emma's, offering a smouldering look, littered with promises.

And then she was gone.

_Well hell._

* * *

Lunch had been amazing, Emma had to admit, as she leaned back in her chair. Lasagne was on the menu – Regina knew how to win over a girl's stomach, that was for sure.

But it was nothing compared to the company. The moment Emma had said the words out loud, had told her son she was extending her stay, she had been attacked by small boyish blur.

Henry had literally hurled himself at her and hugged her hard.

Emma had slid her gaze cautiously over his head to Regina, worried she might find jealousy in burning brown eyes. Instead she saw amusement at the way their son had latched onto her like a territorial koala.

"Henry, try and remember Emma favours breathing," was the mayor's only comment.

Emma had offered her a wide smile, and watched as he finally detached himself and thanked her over and over.

"Thank your mom, kid," she replied. "She talked sense into me."

He promptly turned, stared at Regina for an assessing moment and then flung his arms around her waist and squeezed tightly.

The surprise on Regina's face told the blonde this was still not a common occurrence despite the obvious thawing of tensions between the two since she'd been gone. She grinned at the sight.

The trio had not talked about much of depth over the mouthfuls of delicious food, but they had shared warmth. Emma couldn't help compare it to the strange breakfasts she'd had in the house the mornings after she'd helped Regina sleep, when she was so tired she could barely sit up straight. Although they had become used to each other's presence, it lacked a sense of …

Emma struggled to find the word. She paused and eyed the young boy happily scooping a forkful of pasta into his mouth, his eyes sparkling. Regina sat back and observed them both, her food barely touched, but the smile nothing at all like the mayor's grim curled lips Emma would often encounter during those breakfasts. Forced out begrudgingly, like a miser counting his change.

This Regina – the smiles were freely dispensed. It was novel, to say the least.

The woman in question lifted an eyebrow, silently asking Emma what she was thinking. The blonde gave her a half shrug and resumed chewing.

_Family._

The place lacked a sense of family before, she decided. And that's what this table, bursting with food and conversation and unspoken genuine feeling, now had. She paused mid-chew and wondered at that.

It was nice, she decided.

_If you liked that sort of thing._

Regina had caught her at the door just before she headed out of the mansion, and leaned into her ear. "You know where the spare key is, dear. The room at the end of the hall has been made up if you cannot bear another night with Eugenia's rose-infused '60s décor. I hope you'll consider it."

The whispering mouth had paused and slipped a few inches, leaving a delicate kiss on Emma's neck that made her shudder.

She had nodded quickly and hastily stepped outside before her baser instincts took over. She stood, breathing deeply, blinking into the light.

* * *

Regina sat up in bed and began her usual nightly regimen, opening her skin-cream jar. She wondered, not for the first time that day, whether Emma would take her up on her offer of a room, or whether she would endure Granny's ye olde decor for the sake of keeping her distance.

She had just finished applying the cream when the answer presented itself, in the form of one Emma Swan leaning confidently against her French doors and tapping shortly on the glass.

Regina placed the jar back on her night stand and hid a smile as she stood and unlocked the doors.

"Miss Swan," she husked, opening them, "I swear I gave you key access to my home. And yet you take to my wall like a guerilla."

She turned without waiting and headed back for her bed. It was cold, and she had little doubt Emma would make herself at home. She always did.

Emma closed and locked the French doors and slid down the wall, facing her bed, a re-run of the previous night's conversation.

"I didn't wanna wake Henry."

Regina eyed her skeptically.

"Really, dear?"

Emma looked down at her hands, turned them into fists, and sighed. "No. It's just … I don't like the route I have to take if I'm using your key."

The words were barely audible and Regina had to strain to hear them. She processed that for a minute. "Your route? What do you mean? It's not far."

"No, it's not. Look can we change the subject? I wanna talk about this." She held up an envelope and Regina recognised her own handwriting on the front.

The mayor paused, debating whether to succumb to the obvious distraction.

Then her mind finally filled in the blanks about what Emma wasn't saying.

"I understand," Regina said quietly. "I don't suppose I will ever get used to using my staircase either. It can be unsettling – if my thoughts stray at the wrong moment."

Emma's head was still bowed. "God, how do you stand it? Seeing it every day?" she asked, disgust at herself laced through her voice.

Regina thought about that. Truthfully it was just something she tried not to think of. And most of the time it worked.

Most of the time.

"I'm certain there will come a day when it will not be an issue."

She stated it confidently, hoping it was true.

Emma's head lifted slightly, and she made eye contact. "It will always be an issue for me.  _Always_."

Regina regarded her thoughtfully. "I know, Emma."

A wealth of subtext passed in that moment.

After a minute, Emma's shoulders sagged and she looked down again, twisting the envelope in her fingers.

Regina could feel the waves of anguish coming from the forlorn figure.

"Would it help if I said I forgive you? Because I do. I have for a long time now."

Regina eyed the bowed form, realising after a pained still moment that she could see tears slipping down Emma's face, glistening in the low light.

She knew instinctively Emma did not want her touching her right now. So she watched from her spot in the bed, feeling oddly distanced from where she most wanted to be.

"Yeah," Emma said very softly. "That does help."

Silence fell again.

"So how was your big day out with all your friends?" Regina asked, trying desperately for a more neutral topic.

Emma's mouth twisted into a hint of a grin. "I have discovered Ruby makes the world's worst mocktails. I mean, shit, who puts prune juice, crushed ice, lemon and ginger-ale together and thinks that's a good mix? She called it a Purple Orgasm. Trust me when I say she was only half right."

"And here I thought you were a risk taker," Regina purred.

Emma laughed, a short, less-than-amused bark. "My tastebuds have had it with me after the last two days. The company was good, but I just wanted to…"

She faded out and glanced over at Regina.

"Let me guess – flee to Boston?"

"No," Emma shook her head adamantly. "See you."

She folded her arms around her knees. "It's funny I spent all this time away trying to expunge you from my life and my mind, but I may as well try and give up oxygen. And now you're  _this_  near … well let's just say during dinner I wasn't kidding anyone."

"Oh?"

"Well, um, Mary Margaret said I was playing 'Six Degrees of Regina Mills' all evening."

"What on earth is that?"

"Apparently no matter what the topic was, she said I managed to work you into every conversation within six sentences. Including her new recycling initiative at school. Yes, I am apparently that good. Or that fixated." Emma shrugged and looked shamefaced.

Regina, however, smiled wickedly.

"Oh you like that, huh?" Emma asked, lifting her eyebrows. "Being omnipresent in my brain?"

Regina chuckled and ignored the question. "So you're saying you didn't enjoy your dinner with your former housemate?"

"Actually, I did. It was nice to catch up and she's so happy now with David and everything. It's just Mary Margaret probably enjoyed the evening a lot less. I must be pretty boring to be around these days. With her I talk about you. And with you I bawl like a baby and list off all my most pathetic faults. I'm a real catch. It's not too late to toss me back, you know. You wouldn't be the first."

She offered her most endearing crooked smile, the one the mayor knew meant she was just joking. But Regina could see the pain and fear in every line on her face, coating her like a fine dust. She wondered if Emma even realised how transparent she was.

"Well, dear, I'm not so easily dissuaded. And you hardly have the market cornered on flaws. You opened my envelope I take it?"

Emma nodded and lifted it, opening it once more, then pulled out a small white card containing one sentence of Regina's flourishing handwriting.

"I never expected this," she told Regina earnestly. "It's a massive thing. Like the gift of trust."

"It was nothing," Regina lied smoothly. "Just the best I could think of to show you on short notice."

"It's more than that. We both know it."

Regina shook her head but saw Emma lift the card, preparing to read it aloud, flashing green eyes daring her to argue.

Emma read: "Many times, at night, I am afraid of being alone."

Regina pursed her lips and tried not to feel sick upon hearing the words spoken.

An admission of a gaping, ugly flaw. It had been hard to write. More than once she had paused and debated whether she should do it. But Emma had to know: Regina was still broken in places, too.

Or broken enough that Emma might still relate to her.

"I love that you did this for me," Emma said softly, and waved the card in front of her. She stopped and stared at it for a beat, then put it away carefully in its envelope. "But I don't think I'm worthy of it."

"Emma…"

"It probably sounds a little fucked up, but I'm going to treasure this."

"Actually it probably  _is_  a little, ah…"

"You can say it."

"I'd rather not."

"Do you ever swear?"

"On occasion. In my head usually." She twitched her lips.

"I would like to get in your head space some time, I think," Emma said thoughtfully. "Get to know all of you."

"No, my dear, I don't think you would. It's terrifying. There's darkness and anger. All sorts of..." She stopped. She had been about to say evil. A little too close to the bone.

Emma, however, smirked. "OK now I really, really want in."

Regina exhaled heavily. "You are the most contrary person I have ever met. Do you deliberately put your hand on hot stoves just because someone tells you not to?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I usually do," Emma grinned. "It's how I fell for you, after all. Regina Mills - the ultimate hot stove."

Emma gazed at the mayor curiously and continued: "Although I often wonder how I can possibly feel for you as much as I do when you also terrify me so much."

Regina arched an eyebrow. "And what is your conclusion, dear?"

Emma smiled back. "Life is fucked like that, is my conclusion."

The blonde shook her head sheepishly. "It's late." She stood slowly and glanced at the door to the hall passageway.

"I should turn in. You know, get some shut-eye and see what you have in store for me tomorrow. How many other Storybrooke residents you have lined up to woo me with noxious Purple Orgasms and tales of the good ole days."

Regina hesitated awkwardly for a moment, opening and shutting her mouth before finally speaking.

"You could stay.  _Here_."

She swallowed thickly and her eyes flicked to the space beside her in bed, explaining without saying.

"I…" Emma paused. "It's just…"

"Never mind," Regina said stiffly. "I misspoke." She closed her eyes.

She heard movement and then felt arms slide around her and pull her in for a half hug. "Hey," Emma whispered in her ear. "I'd love that as well. A bit too much actually. But it is too soon. I need to trust that you'll still want me in the morning."

Regina tightened her arms around Emma and sighed. "Are my words not enough for you to trust? If I promised…"

"No. I need to feel it. Here."

Emma grabbed Regina's hand and trailed her fingers down to the blonde's chest and flattened them over her heart. "You scare me with all the ways you can – not just break me – but grind me into dust."

"I wouldn't..." Regina husked. She could feel Emma's heart thumping hard under her hand. "I wouldn't," she repeated more firmly.

Emma let go of the brunette's hand. "Please keep saying that. For the rest of the week. Over and over. OK?"

"I will, Emma."

Regina impulsively slid a hand around Emma's neck and pulled her lips towards hers. After a moment's hesitation the blonde responded with a tiny groan and the kiss grew deeper. When they pulled away, both women were breathing raggedly.

"You're going to be the death of me, Regina. You know that right? One way or another, it's RIP Emma Swan."

As Emma slipped out of Regina's embrace and then padded out of the room and down the hall to the guest bedroom, the mayor stared after her.

She had caught the look in the blonde's eye as she whispered her final words for the evening and it chilled her. Emma meant it with every fibre of her being.

Regina stared at the empty hall long after she'd heard a door click shut in the distance. She finally got up and shut her own bedroom door, returned to bed and turned off her lamp.

Then she stared at the ceiling and spent the next few hours trying to wipe her mind of the haunted look on Emma's face. She wondered what it would take to make it go away.

Or whether she was already too late.


	48. REGARDING HENRY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: There is a very low level trigger warning in this chapter due to a brief and passing reference to suicidal ideation.

"Did you mean it?"

Regina clawed her way out of sleep at the familiar voice, somehow far too close, and cracked an eyelid. Emma Swan, blonde mussed hair and a worried face inches from her own, was kneeling beside her bed, staring at her intently.

"Emma?" Regina cracked open her other eye and tried to focus.

"Did you mean it?" The voice was hoarse, and the eyes tired, as though they hadn't got much sleep.

"My dear, you're really going to have to be a little more specific," Regina said as she bit back a yawn. "And it's cold. Get under the covers before I catch sympathy pneumonia. Which, before you argue, is most definitely a real thing."

She glanced at the bedside clock. 7.00am exactly.  _Had Emma been waiting for it to tick over to a more civilized hour before finally waking her?_

_How considerate_ , she drawled to herself.

She paused.  _Just how long had she been kneeling here, waiting?_

Regina frowned for a moment as she watched Emma shakily stand and then crawl into bed next to her, maintaining her distance on the other side. She then rolled onto her side, facing Regina, and propped her head up on one hand, in an attentive pose.

"Do you really forgive me?"

Regina felt a smile spread across her face. "That's an easy question at least," she purred and inched closer to the blonde. "I definitely do."

The blonde looked at her intently for a moment before dipping her chin in a reassured nod. "Good, that's good to know," she whispered. "Makes a big ... it's good. I hoped I wasn't hearing things."

There was a silence. "I haven't been sitting here, ah, bed-stalking you for hours," she added as an afterthought. "I only just ... I came in to see if you were awake and then... Well then I had to know the answer." Emma glanced down. Her hands were shaking so she hid them.

Regina inched closer. "Were you up all night thinking about this?" she asked, eyes peering assessingly into green when Emma looked up again. "You don't look very rested. Is my guest room so inhospitable?"

"Had a lot to think about. So yeah, had a pretty late one."

Regina edged further across until she was well over the middle of the bed. "Mmm," she whispered. She could feel the blonde's body heat now, radiating invitingly, and her still sleepy body seemed to be reaching for it without much involvement on her brain's part.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." Emma eyed her nearness with feigned outrage and prodded Regina's bare shoulder with a finger. "Typical. Give a girl an inch and she takes a mile."

Regina smiled and slid a questing hand over Emma's hip and brought her in for a lazy half-hug, in a grip that was so loose it was barely there. "Would that really be so bad? If I took a mile?"

Emma dipped her head into Regina's shoulder, silk straps pressing against her cheek.

It was clear to both women that the mayor was very much still waking up - and in rather  _pleasant_  mood.

"You are incorrigible," Emma exhaled without any censure. "And you make it really hard for me to think sometimes," she confessed in a voice muffled from a mouth pressed into warm skin and silk.

"That was the idea," the brunette practically purred, enjoying the feel of Emma pressed against her. "Less thinking." She pulled her in tighter. "More...  _us_."

Regina realised, as her hand began to walk its way from Emma's hip and up across towards her chest, that she probably would not have been so bold at any other time of the day. But she had always been so susceptible to rumpled Emma, in that half world between sleep and waking. The smell of her. The feel... Her fingers were practically tingling.

"I see," Emma said, interrupting her thoughts, as they both watched as one rogue, tan finger traced its way up a white tanktop and across to a swell. "Anyone would think Madame Mayor likes a little snuggle and fumble in the morning."

Emma's nipples hardened under both their gazes. She flushed faintly.

"It's a bit late to be coy about that now," Regina said thickly as she noticed the reddening cheeks. "After all, how many times did we wake up in exactly this position?" Her wandering hand now flattened and began to rub Emma's breast gently. The blonde's breath caught. Regina's eyebrow lifted at the sound, and her lips quirked, pleased.

Emma cleared her throat and said shakily: "I absolutely would have remembered if I'd woken up to you doing this to me."

Perfect eyebrows rose even higher. "Well dear, I suppose you have a point. You never went further than presenting yourself to me like a bonobo chimp. Definitely no extras."

Emma froze. "A b-bonobo?!'' She gaped and sputtered indignantly. "If I recall it was YOU doing all the clinging and, ah, 'presenting' and fumbling with me every morning! I was just lying here, all innocent."

Regina offered her best, slow Cheshire cat smile, sleepy brown eyes regarding her with amusement. "Just keep telling yourself that, dear."

"YOU..."

"Yes?"

A long pause. Then a bark of laughter.

"Regina Mills, you are teasing me." Not a question.

The brunette chuckled, low, deep and throaty. Emma swallowed.

"Well you did claim to miss being insulted," the mayor said. "And, besides, you do make a target that is entirely too tempting."

"Starting to rethink that insult request now. And, shit, is that your way of calling me  _easy_?"

Regina flashed her teeth in amusement. "Well dear, I'm not the one who greets people knocking at the door in my underwear."

"I'm sure you'd get a lot more visitors if you did."

Regina's eyes danced. "Would you visit me more often, dear, if that was my habit?" she asked in a droll tone.

Emma gave a small growl before replying. "I think you know the answer to that. I might even take to sitting on your front steps, pointedly polishing my gun to discourage ANY early morning visitors."

"Why, Miss Swan ... Are we jealous?"

Emma mumbled something into Regina's shoulder which sounded vaguely like a yes. The mayor's eyes lit up approvingly and she gave the blonde's soft breast an even firmer rub at the pleasing answer.

"Good. I expect nothing less. Now would you like me to continue doing this or do you want to hear your itinerary for the day?" Regina asked too sweetly.

"You ARE evil," Emma muttered at the loaded question.

Regina's expression fell. "So I've been told."

The kneading stopped. Her hand retracted under the covers. Even in jest that word hurt.

"Wait, no," Emma said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that - you know, the way Henry says it."

Regina rolled back to her side of the bed, the mood broken. "Speaking of Henry," she said neutrally once she had resettled, "HE is your itinerary for the day."

"Huh?"

"He requested you for today. He has it all planned out. I think he had some idea of showing you everything that has changed around Storybrooke since you've been gone."

"And what'll I do for the  _next_  20 minutes?" Emma asked with a tug of her lips.

Regina eyed her archly. "You might be surprised what's been going on since you've left. We're not entirely the backwater hick town you told your secretary about in Boston."

"I meant no offense," Emma said, looking faintly shamefaced.

"Hmm," Regina said, considering that. "It might be wise to remember sometime when you're curled up in my bed that I am actually the mayor of Storybrooke and I am proud of this town.  _My town_."

"Yeah, um, sorry. You're right."

Regina nodded once and dropped the matter. She rubbed her face and felt the last of her sleepiness go. "OK, shower and breakfast," she ordered her bedmate. "Henry told me he wanted you from eight."

"Isn't it a school day? You know - Monday?"

"It's a public holiday."

"It is?"

"It is  _now_ ," Regina said and regarded her challengingly.

"In aid of...?"

"In aid of you spending some time with Henry."

"Huh. Must have missed  _that_  holiday growing up." Emma looked at her smugly until her face fell at exactly what she'd just said.

"Indeed," Regina said slowly.

"OK, um. Right," Emma stumbled. "It's a great cause."

"The very best."

"Yeah."

* * *

Henry Mills, aged 11 and 9/10ths, sat up, yawned and rubbed his eyes. He reached for his Batman watch - a gift from his mom last birthday.  _7.12am. Plenty of time._  He gave a small grin and threw off his bedding, determined to get an early start to his day.

He had run his plans past his mom the previous day which were basically to let him loose on Emma - and Storybrooke - so they could "catch up''.

His mom had agreed immediately that it was a great idea and he had hugged her impulsively. He hadn't even thought about it, it just happened. And to his great surprise it had felt really good. And right. Despite their cold war and everything that had happened, and their current truce, he realised he wanted to stay hugging her for a bit longer.

That was when he'd blurted it out: "I'm so glad you're not her anymore. The evil queen I mean.''

She had stared down at him with a strange look on her face and eventually sighed and neatened his hair absentmindedly.

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm almost 12 now, not a little kid. I  _know_  what you're doing. I thought it was a trick at first, but then everyone started falling in love and you just let them and then you went to get Emma." He stopped and stared at her in confusion. "I just can't totally figure out why."

"The why is fairly obvious - I want Emma to stay. We need our sheriff back."

Henry humphed dramatically. "Come on, Mom. That's just an excuse. Why do you  _really_  want her to stay? The other reason. I mean she  _is_  the Saviour! You're not supposed to bring her back here."

"Henry, does the 'why' even matter? Don't you want Emma here, too?"

Henry had bit his lip. The why DID matter. Very much in fact. He looked at her hard. It had been tiring out his brain trying to figure it all out. He really only had one working theory but it seemed so crazy that he had told himself it couldn't possibly be true. But now Emma and his mom were here, and not fighting and looking at each other like ...

And then there was  _that_  dance.

Ever since he had begun wondering if his theory might be true. But the book never mentioned love could overcome evil queens, and de-evil them, even if that seemed to be, maybe, what was going on. Maybe.

He thought some more. Everyone knew love was the most powerful magic of all. Bigger even than evil queens _for sure_. Of that he had no doubt. Although - that evil queen-defeating power really did seem a pretty big thing to leave out of the book.

But then again his book also never once mentioned that two women could fall in love, either, though he knew that happened sometimes, too. The same way Archie and Matt fell in love.

He wondered, not for the first time that month, if his book was actually leaving a LOT of important stuff out. Stuff that would explain  _everything_.

Or, he sighed, it could also be a big trick. Evil queens could do that, too.

Then his mind flicked back to the wedding dance and the way his mother never once took her eyes off Emma. The way she held her really tight at times, whispered into her ear, smiled against her neck and looked like she was having the happiest moment of her life. Her whole face had  _glowed_.

_Why would an evil queen fake that?_

He frowned again, and had no answer.

His mother was watching him closely, still waiting for an answer.

"I want her here, too," Henry confirmed. He eyed her curiously. "You really don't act like you hate her anymore." He hadn't meant to say the last bit out loud but the words had tumbled out like the random thought it was.

"Henry," Regina exhaled heavily as if she was very tired all of a sudden. "I don't. And I know you won't believe this - but I'm not sure I ever did."

Henry bit his lip again. He searched her face for signs of a lie and found none.

_This was way too hard. Way, way too hard._

He'd talk to Emma later.

* * *

Henry and Emma sat in their favorite old booth at Granny's diner, slurping on matching banana thickshakes, plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in front of them, and deconstructed their morning's tour.

"So whose idea was the new library expansion?" Emma asked and then sucked noisily on her shake.

Regina had been right, Emma mused. A lot of changes had happened while she'd been away and some of them had reshaped the entire face of Storybrooke.

"Well Belle - that's Mr Gold's girlfriend ..."

Emma's eyebrows shot up.  _Gold had a girlfriend now?_  She wondered what on earth she'd be like.  _Probably a clever sharply-dressed woman who would keep up with his Machiavellian schemes_ , she guessed. She pictured someone aristocratic, who did not suffer fools gladly. Henry was chattering on so she pulled her focus back to him.

"... asked if she could reopen the library cos she loves books so much and so Mom went one better and brought in some computers for it, and suggested the reading nooks so people who can't afford a computer or books, or anyone who just wants to hang out, could have somewhere nice to go."

Emma nodded. She had been actually seriously impressed by the state-of-the-art addition to the old building. It had been brimming with enthusiastic residents when she and Henry stopped by. No sign of the mysterious Belle though.

"And what about the new recycling initiative Mary Margaret was telling me about - and the greening of the urban areas and the extra parks around your school? Where'd that all come from?"

"Well Mom thought it might be nice for people to have somewhere to sit and relax. And she said we can't waste resources - that it was important to look after the planet."

"Hmm," Emma said giving her shake a blast of air, amusing herself with the bubbles that formed. Henry giggled.

Emma recalled what else she'd seen: "I never thought I'd see the day the mayor would throw open the town hall for anything other than boring meetings."

"Yes!" Henry said and pointed to a flyer stuck near the diner's door. "There's a children's variety show coming up and a puppet show and a town talent contest next week and ..."

Emma grinned. "So lots of stuff happening."

"Yeah and Shakespeare in the Park is on next month, from the Storybrooke Amateur Thespian Society," Henry finally concluded.

"Storybrooke has  _thespians_? Who knew?" Emma raised an eyebrow and smirked as Ruby joined them at the table, collecting their plates.

"Sure does," the waitress grinned and offered a knowing wink at the lame joke.

"Well, duh," Henry said, looking between the women in confusion, aware he was missing something. "How can you have an acting group without actors?"

"Yep true," Emma agreed blandly. She patted her stomach. "God, so full now. Good thing we did a walking tour all morning. Not that I think your mother would ever have loaned me her Merc."

She grinned at the ludicrous idea. Henry pushed his shake away and offered a contented sigh.

Emma watched him for a minute and recalled a time they had sat in these very seats and all he had wanted to talk about was one thing.

"So tell me, kid, if your mom has done all this stuff, that's pretty great, right?"

"Yeah," Henry conceded, a suspicious look in his eye.

"So do you still think she's the Evil Queen?"

Henry regarded her for a moment. "I think she's changed. She brought  _you_  back, after all."

"She did. And she wouldn't take no for an answer," Emma added with a small smile. "I am starting to think she really wants me here."

Henry looked at her again and bit his lip. His fingers balled a serviette and he stared at it intently. Emma wondered what he wanted to say but wasn't.

"You know kid, I see a lot of happy people around town," Emma plowed on. "Couples in love and all that. People just generally a lot happier than before. If your mom was really the Evil Queen, she'd be putting a stop to all that, right? You told me she took away the happy endings. How can your mom really want this curse to stay in place if she is helping to make everything better and happy?"

She gave Henry an assessing look, genuinely curious as to how he'd excuse her logic. She knew he would though. He was one determined little boy.

"I-I think Mom maybe  _trying_  to break the curse now," he whispered conspiratorially. "Or at least she doesn't care if it breaks. I just am not 100 per cent sure why. I mean I have a theory but..." He faded out and flicked worried eyes to his birth mother. "I'm not sure you're ready to hear it."

She gave him an amused smile. "Try me. I can handle it." She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward.

"I ... I think Mom has fallen in love, and she doesn't care about anything else anymore but making that person happy. And if that person is, like, crammed full of goodness, then Mom knows she has to do good, too, or the person she loves won't want her. She doesn't even care if breaking the curse hurts her personally anymore, she just wants to be good enough to be loved back."

Emma's eyebrows lifted in astonishment. That was quite a theory. "Who do you think your mom loves, Henry?"

She waited a beat and watched as worry swamped her son's face. He looked so conflicted. "Like I said I'm not sure you're ready," he mumbled.

"Who is it?" she repeated, and this time her heartbeat picked up, thumping anxiously. She wasn't sure which answer she feared more - her son knowing, or him fixating on someone else.

"It's you," he whispered hotly then seemed to suck in and hold a breath. Huge wide eyes watched her fearfully.

"W-why do you say that?" she asked, stalling in panic. Her eyes flicked around the room, wondering if anyone else had heard. No one was paying any attention to them.

"It all fits. Her bringing you here and being nice to you now. Besides, I saw her dance with you. Everyone did. I heard everyone talking about it and what it had to mean. But I have eyes, too. I know my mom. She doesn't ever look at anyone like that, or hold them like that. Or smile like that. And she has never ever EVER danced like that."

Emma was the one to bite her lip this time. "I..." She wasn't sure she should confirm it or not. Ultimately she decided it was Regina's place to choose how to handle her son's suspicions. It wasn't like the mayor had even told her she loved her. Although she often felt it when Regina looked at her. The warmth that exuded from brown eyes was intoxicating at times. But her insecurities leaked out often enough to wonder if she wasn't still the mayor's passing fancy. Easily discarded when the novelty wore off.

"Do you feel the same way, Emma?" Henry asked.

The blonde tilted her head curiously. She was sure she could see hope on his young features. "You'd like that? Both your mothers together?"

"Yeah," he nodded vigorously.

"Even though we're both women?"

He rolled his eyes as if she had just said the most stupid thing ever.

_Maybe she had._

"Duh. What's that matter if you love each other? And two of my friends at school have same-sex parents. No one cares anymore, Emma." He gave her such a condescending look that he was suddenly most definitely Regina's child.

_Out of the mouths of babes._

Emma sighed. She hadn't even been here a week and Henry had figured them out. Already Regina had broken down her defenses in a way only she could, turning her into an emotional mess. And it was still only Day Three.

This was all way, way too much to consider before she had a few bourbons in her.

"So DO you love Mom?"

_Goddamn the kid was persistent._  She considered lying. She considered admitting the truth - but what would happen if she then left? She'd be getting emails from him for eternity about how "true loves should be together".

"What did I look like when we were dancing?" she asked suddenly. "You mentioned your mom, but not me."

Henry puckered his brow thoughtfully. "Like you couldn't believe it. Like if you'd landed on the moon it would make more sense."

Emma laughed aloud at that. "Pretty accurate, kid."

"And you looked like you loved dancing with Mom, like you do it all the time. Did you dance together in Storybrooke?'' he asked, suddenly fascinated at the thought.

"Nope, not even once," Emma said. "We hated each other then, remember."

"Mom told me she never hated you," Henry offered. "She told me yesterday."

"Well she could've fooled me. I'd hate to see what she's like when she  _really_  hates someone."

"Well she did really hate Miss Blanchard."

"Oh. Yeah, right. I remember."

"But she doesn't anymore. Not so much anyway. That's also more proof she's changed and she's not that evil now. She even donated to Miss Blanchard's school fundraiser."

"She what?"

"Miss Blanchard was all vague and weird and kept saying 'Wonders will never cease' for, like, three days after." Henry gave a wide grin.

Emma chuckled.

"So are you gonna answer the question?" Henry looked at her slyly.

Emma gave a cryptic grin. "No kid, I'm not."

* * *

It was 11pm and Regina was rubbing in her arm cream slowly - very, very slowly - while, if she was completely honest with herself, she waited. Emma had begged off dinner with her that night by saying she wanted to catch up with Ruby, one on one. The mayor had immediately and forcibly attempted to squelch the jolt of jealousy and gave her a neutral "Of course. Have fun." She didn't think she'd pulled it off entirely because Emma had looked at her curiously.

The blonde had not returned yet, and the mayor had already surreptitiously called the bar and grill the other woman had hinted she was eating at to confirm their closing times, and that Emma had in fact left.

The waiter assured her she had just gone. But that was half an hour ago.

Regina had unlocked her French doors, patted down her nightwear, fluffed her hair a little, and waited. And waited. She supposed it was possible Emma had finally decided to use her front door and was already home, but based on last night's conversation, she doubted it.

A shadow crossed the doors and Regina let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Emma tapped twice on the glass and waved cheerfully and Regina hid her smirk as she called out that it was open.

She watched as Emma closed and locked it behind her and sank to the floor in her usual spot. The blonde's eyes fell to a folded up blue blanket beside her.

"Hey, thanks!" Her eyes lit up as she shook it out and drew it around her legs. She fortunately didn't make a point about why Regina knew to leave it there. That she had been waiting for her like some doe-eyed teenager.

"Oh and thanks for the other thing. That made the climb easier."

Regina merely nodded. "I didn't want you breaking your neck. That would be exceedingly hard to explain to Henry and everyone else in Storybrooke as to why you insisted on scaling my wall."

The mayor had spent much of the morning hunting around hardware stores for an appropriate short rope ladder to hang from the side of her balcony. When she could find nothing suitable, she had then spent the afternoon - while Henry and Emma were enjoying the movies - watching as Marco made her one to measure. She had knotted it to the balcony railing herself - after researching the most appropriate knotting techniques online, finally following a YouTube video assiduously. She had hoped the impetuous blonde would avail herself of the climbing device.

She had.

"Well it was very thoughtful, Regina."

"It was nothing," the mayor shrugged and waved a hand casually. "Just something I had lying around in my garage."

Emma eyed her doubtfully, and the brunette realised she knew she was lying. Regina gave a small, sheepish smile. "Or something like that," she amended. "So, how was your date with Miss Lucas?" She changed the topic and made the question deliberately provocative. Her eyes glittered.

"Not a date, Regina," Emma replied with a knowing look and leaned back. "But it was great to catch up. I missed her. In fact I think half the reason I hired the secretary I did was cos she reminds me so much of Rubes."

"I detected no plunging cleavage or excesses of skin on the lovely Miss Somerville," Regina said airily.

Emma rolled her eyes. "There's way more to Ruby than her fashion taste."

"I'm certainly glad to hear it."

A silence fell between them which was comfortable - but Regina could see by the way Emma was opening her mouth repeatedly that she was dying to say something.

"Out with it," she ordered.

"Huh?"

"Whatever it is," Regina said.

Emma looked at her hands. She glanced up.

"I sneaked a look at the next card in the envelopes you gave me, before I went out."

"I see." Regina sucked in her breath. "Which one was it?"

"The one about Henry."

"Oh." Regina examined her fingernails as she recalled her words she had written: "If anything were to happen to Henry I don't think I could go on living. It would break me completely. I think I would choose to follow him."

"By 'follow him' do you mean you would, ah ... take your own.."

"Yes." The answer was short and clipped and left no room for debate.

"What if we were together? As a couple? And then something happened to Henry? Would you still..."

Regina thought about that and felt utter confusion.

"I had never considered that. I-I'm not so sure now."

"I would help you through it, you know. You wouldn't face that alone."

"I thought there was no 'we' yet?"

"In this hypothetical situation there is. And hypothetical me would be devastated if you took your own life because Henry had died. Or for any other reason."

"Oh."

"Just 'oh'?"

"I am not used to having someone who would care about me in that way." Regina's voice was quiet and, to her horror, she heard it tremble. Emma's head lifted and turned to her, so the brunette knew she'd heard it, too.

"I know the feeling," Emma said just as quietly. "I have been alone - no support I mean - almost my whole life."

Regina exhaled. "I am ... sorry, by the way. I knew that about you and there was that day I made the dig, that not having someone is the worst possible curse."

Emma's lips thinned and pressed hard together. "You always did have unerring accuracy when you wanted to hurt me."

"One of my more unfortunate talents. You should know that if we were together, and we had a fight, I still have that tendency," Regina admitted. "I cannot curb it as much as I'd like."

"If I recall one of the things you said you liked about me was that I have seen you, warts and all, and never shied away from that. It's very true. I know who you are, Regina. My doubts have nothing to do with your sharp tongue."

Emma suddenly flushed as if noticing another connotation to her words. Regina smirked as she cottoned on. "You think about my sharp tongue a lot, Miss Swan?" she asked silkily.

Emma reddened even more.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The blonde attempted a casual tone and failed miserably.

"I think I already do if your guilty face is any indication," Regina drawled. "That's quite alright, dear. I think I quite like knowing that."

Emma humphed for effect and her blush grew.

The brunette gave a low chuckle. She watched as Emma pushed herself off the wall and began folding the blanket back into a neat blue square.

"I think it might be time for me to turn in. I have bar smoke all over me," Emma said and winced, her nostrils flaring.

"Ahh, so you went to one of the classier establishments then?" Regina said with a faint sneer. "I might have guessed."

Emma laughed outright at that. "I love how you pretend not to know. The waiter told us you called to see when he shut and if we were still there. He said he'd told you we'd gone - he seemed to think he was rescuing me from, uhm, domestic trouble. Anyway I took that as my cue. It was getting late anyway."

Regina scowled and this time felt the color rise in her own cheeks. "That's the last time I expect discretion from hospitality employees. I could call his superior and get him fired for that."

"But you won't," Emma inserted playfully and sidled over to the bed. "I know you won't."

"You think you know me so well, dear," the mayor said with a warning tone, trying to scrabble back her dignity.

Emma leaned forward and dropped a goodnight kiss lightly on her lips. "I don't  _think_  I do,'' she whispered and dropped another kiss. "I  _know_  I do." She said it cockily, daring the brunette to disagree.

"Fine." Regina rolled her eyes. "I won't get him fired. But the establishment will be boycotted by me to the end of my days."

Emma snickered. "Have you ever actually even been there once yet?"

"Not the point." Regina tried to look more outraged but it was hard when Emma was eyeing her with such fond amusement.

She leaned up and captured Emma's lips for a longer kiss, running fingers through blonde hair and sighing when she finally let go. She suddenly wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Dear God, you weren't kidding about the smoke. Get into the shower before I throw you in there."

Emma's expression faltered.

"Or would you like to see me do that? Hmm?" Regina asked, lips curling. She wasn't being serious but Emma did suddenly seem to be giving the matter some earnest thought.

"Maybe not tonight," Emma said softly, gazing directly into brown eyes. Regina felt herself being lost in their depths. She swallowed at the unspoken "but maybe another time" that was hanging between them.

Emma pulled away very, very slowly and headed for the door. She paused and looked back with a soft smile.

"Good night, Regina."

The door clicked close.


	49. SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE

Regina's nostrils twitched as she woke and she immediately snapped her eyes open warily. _OK, no Emma Swan perched by her bed today_. Her heart sank slightly until she got a glimpse of a steaming cup of coffee on the chest of drawers by her bed.

A note was beside it.

She reached for both and sat up in bed, inhaling the slightly nutty Cuban scent of her favourite blend.

She unfolded the note curiously and read.

_Hey Regina_

_I have my own itinerary figured out for today. But think you can be free at five? Come home then. Text me if you can't make it._

_Emma._

_PS Enjoy the coffee. Henry tells me this is how you like it._

Regina frowned, trying to work out the note as if it was a secret code. She'd had some vague plans for the day for Emma but nothing concrete, and nothing that couldn't be postponed. She glanced at the clock. 7.03am. Hmm. Well she supposed a day in the office wouldn't hurt, given she'd been letting things slide since Emma had arrived in town.

She reviewed some work in her head briefly as she sipped her coffee, delighting at the fact it really was just the way she liked it. _She could get used to room service._ She smiled distractedly for a moment and then realised she was actually daydreaming. Like some foolish love-struck teenager. She put the finished cup down and stood.

She slipped on her blue silky robe and padded down the stairs, half expecting to find the blonde in the kitchen attempting to make eggs. Instead she found Henry munching on cereal in his striped pajamas, with a still slightly sleepy look on his face.

"You're up early," she commented, glancing around. _No one else in sight._

Henry shrugged and continued munching. She tried again.

"Emma left already? Did she say what she's up to?"

Henry shrugged again. Regina narrowed her eyes and stared at her son. He'd been like this through his not-speaking-to-his-mother stage and she was not keen to go back to it.

"Any particular reason you're not talking to me?"

Henry nodded his head and swallowed, offering a small smile. "Couldn't talk with my mouth full," he said smartly. "And Emma left half an hour ago."

"Hmm," Regina said and opened the fridge, reaching for bread and a jug of orange juice.

"Mom, can I sleep over at Jason's tonight? His parents' number is on the pad if you wanna call and check."

Regina poured juice into two glasses and brought them over to the table.

"We'll see. What's the occasion?"

"He got the new Batman v Joker Xbox game for his birthday. He keeps saying it's the greatest game ever."

"Henry, it's a school night."

"We won't be up too late and I can go to school from his place tomorrow with him."

He looked at her so hopefully that she caved with a long sigh. "Fine. But you have to promise to do your homework when you're there. I'll be checking with the Fletchers to see that you do."

"Thanks Mom," he grinned and then, as she tapped his OJ glass pointedly, he grabbed it and gulped down his juice.

"So," Regina said as she headed back to the counter to put some bread in the toaster, "Did Emma not say _anything_ about her plans?"

"Just that she has to see Ruby." Henry shrugged again as if it was all too hard and put his bowl in the sink. He suddenly looked desperate to leave. "Gotta get a shower and get ready for school."

He bounded up the stairs before she could reply. Regina eyed the whir of small legs thoughtfully until he disappeared.

_Well. At lunchtime, it might be worth a little stroll over to Granny's to find out exactly why Miss Lucas was monopolising all Emma's time._

Not that she was jealous or anything. A ridiculous notion. She frowned faintly as that 'ridiculous notion' continued to plague her for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Madame Mayor, what a pleasant surprise," Eugenia Lucas greeted her as she headed to the counter at lunchtime. "We haven't seen you in here in some time. What can I get you?"

Regina glanced behind the woman and then around the café. She slid a hand to hips encased in a black cotton pencil skirt. "Is Miss Lucas around?" she asked casually.

Surprise washed across the older woman's face, and Regina supposed it was an odd request. She barely spoke to the waitress/part-time deputy sheriff beyond placing curt orders and eyeing her more outlandish outfits with disdain.

"Ruby? Why, no. She took the day off. She and Emma disappeared together first thing this morning."

Regina pressed her lips together to prevent herself saying the first words that came to mind. Her teeth ground together.

"Mayor Mills? Are you all right? You look a little pale."

"I am fine, Eugenia. I think I will have your chicken salad special."

Without waiting for a confirmation, Regina stalked to the corner booth, grabbing a nearby newspaper, making a science of opening it and pretending to be utterly absorbed. After reading three times that Farmer Nate's top hog, Bubba, had won Best in Show at the local fair last month, she slapped the paper down and reached for her phone.

She realised she hadn't yet confirmed her availability for Emma's appointment tonight, so she fired off a text. Then she sent a second one, asking: "Where are you?"

She stared at the phone, as if willing it to yield all the blonde's secrets but it stubbornly refused to so much as blink.

"Keep glaring at it like that and you'll fry it," Granny chortled as she placed a chicken salad in front of her.

"Thank you, Eugenia," Regina ground out, and turned to her food, nudging the phone aside with her elbow. Every now and then as she chewed moodily she cast surreptitious looks at it.

It never beeped for the rest of the day.

* * *

Regina found concentrating at work was not an option and by 4.30pm she was practically climbing the walls in frustration. Her secretary had taken to creeping into her office as though fearful of an impending nuclear explosion. She may not have been far wrong.

All Regina's clandestine enquiries had proved fruitless and no one had seen Emma nor Ruby anywhere around Storybrooke all day. In fact the only place she hadn't checked – nor would she on principle, she told herself firmly – was Ruby's apartment.

She glanced at her phone again, checking the signal strength was strong (three bars) and the In Box contents (no new messages).

 _This was ridiculous._ She pushed back her mayoral leather chair, stood, snatched the device and slammed it furiously into her handbag.

"Miss Greene, I'm going home. You can forward any urgent calls to my cell." She stalked out, not bothering to acknowledge the exceedingly relieved look on her assistant's face as she departed.

* * *

The emptiness of her manor struck Regina when she let herself in. She knew even before she looked that Emma was not here. Her home seemed to vibrate on a different frequency when the blonde was inside. It sounded absurd but it felt true. She brought a haphazard humanness to it and Regina could always tell when Emma was about. Her shoulders slumped as she dumped her keys on the small table near the entrance, along with her handbag.

She walked upstairs and stuck her head in each of the rooms to check, but the emptiness confirmed her suspicions.

Finally she pushed open her own bedroom door.

_No one._

_Still, she was early. It was only 4.45pm._ She kicked off her patent black heels and sat on the edge of her bed staring numbly around. _It wasn't supposed to be like this. Getting Emma back was not supposed to make her feel more dejected and lonely than when the other woman was in Boston._

She sighed and turned. Her glance fell on her bedside table. Beside her empty coffee cup she'd forgotten about that morning lay an embossed envelope. Her eyes widened and she virtually launched herself across the bed and tackled it.

Inside she found a letter in Emma's curly, almost childlike handwriting.

 _Regina - Meet me here:  
_ Underneath read a strange string of numbers, and a suggestion she wear warm clothing. She stared at the number again before the penny dropped. Ah – map co-ordinates. Her Mercedes had a GPS that would direct her right there – as Emma clearly knew.

She spotted a postscript.

_PS Didn't get your text at the time you sent it – I was out of range._

_PPS I missed you. x o x_

Regina smiled and felt foolish for her fears, putting the card down slowly. _  
_

What any of these plans had to do with Ruby was a mystery, but she was sure she'd find out in good time.

She changed out of her pencil skirt and silk blouse, into warm woollen trousers, a designer tee-shirt then, over that, a thicker button-down navy shirt. Lastly she slipped on some thick socks and dark, stylish hiking boots that she had bought once on a whim and never worn.

She glanced at the clock. 5.05. _Right. Time to go._ She paused, incredulous she had forgotten. _Henry_. Then she recalled his plans for the evening.

_How suspiciously convenient._

Her mouth quirked at having been played so easily. Any other time she would be annoyed. But now? She shook her head wryly and hoisted her bag. _She and Henry would be having a little chat tomorrow about his artful scheming with Emma._ She smiled in spite of herself as she locked up and headed for the garage.

She keyed in the GPS co-ordinates and watched as her car's mapping system triangulated her destination. She blinked in astonishment and decided she had to have made a mistake. She hit delete, re-entered the number and waited.

 _Well_. Same result. She was clearly about to be heading for the middle of nowhere. She started her engine and hit her garage button, wondering what on earth the unpredictable Miss Swan was up to now.

* * *

An hour later, Regina's Mercedes rolled to a stop at the end of a secluded, grassy road. The last of the day's dying sun cast elongated shadows across a small hollow and the brunette glanced around.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

She was in a circular grassy clearing, surrounded by weeping trees, which had candle-lit Japanese paper lanterns hanging from many of the branches. The effect was casting an enchanting glow around the spot which was surrounded by thick forest and emerald green mountains rising up in the mid distance.

Wildlife noises abounded, birds calling to each other, the buzz of crickets. A large white marquee tent was off to one side, lit up by a camping lantern and Regina could see an Emma Swan-shaped silhouette moving around. She appeared to be preparing food if the delicious aroma wafting from within was anything to go by.

Regina looked back to the middle of the clearing and saw a black tarpaulin laid out on the soft, mossy ground, upon which sat a plump, queen-sized airbed, covered in thick blankets with colourful cushions and pillows scattered all around, giving the air of a luxurious Arabian bedroom, only with nature for its floor and walls. A tall, thin battery-powered heater placed to one side provided another exotic lighting effect, a column of bright orange yielding toasty warmth. Emma had clearly thought of everything.

Soft, aching music was coming from the tent, and Regina realised it was getting louder. The mayor turned to see Emma striding closer, holding a CD boom box and a plate of food.

"Oh hey, you made it!" she beamed and pointed to the inviting airbed. "Pull up a seat. The show is gonna begin soon."

"The show?" Regina repeated stupidly, taken aback by the sight of the blonde. She was wearing tight black jeans, black boots and a black thick shirt – all of which showed off her fit, honed physique to impressive effect. She reminded Regina of a sexy special ops agent.

Emma placed the food tray and music player down and sat, patting the air mattress beside her. She removed her shoes and tucked her legs under herself. "Sit. I promise I won't bite." She waggled her eyebrows and Regina had to laugh at the absurd sight.

Regina settled down cross-legged next to the blonde, after removing her own boots, and eyed the most delicious-looking treats. Savoury triangles, little mince balls with a spicy tomato sauce, and curious vegetable creations with toothpicks through them that Regina couldn't identify.

"You've been busy," she said appreciatively as she snagged one. A flavour explosion rocketed through her mouth and she gave a delighted look. "Very nice."

Emma smiled, pleased. "Yep, I forced Ruby into servitude to get the food prepared for me. It's why I wanted to talk to her last night and endured all that second-hand smoke and bad house music at her favourite dive. She said the steaks and shots I bought her were a good trade off." Emma grinned. "Oh and I also suck at one-woman tent erecting, so I needed her help on that, too. It took a while but we got there in the end."

They both glanced at a fairly solidly standing tent and Regina nodded approvingly. "Well that was nice of Miss Lucas," she said, for once leaving out the sarcasm. It _was_ nice. Her baser, territorial instincts to snarl at the waitress curled up in the corner of her soul, dormant for once. _And the food_ was _delicious._

"Here," Emma handed her a wine glass, and poured some white wine. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Regina replied and sipped, curious as to what the other woman's preferences were. _An actually decent drop_. "I like this."

"Don't sound so surprised," Emma laughed. "I did pick up a few tricks in Boston. And one of them was fine wine appreciation."

Regina's lips twitched and she glanced around. The sun had set completely now, so the lanterns hung in a circle around them were giving off a dancing, ethereal glow. Moths darted about the lights and the effect was magical. She half expected to see fairies come skipping out of the grass.

"Beautiful," she whispered and turned back to Emma, her brown eyes burning. "Beautiful," she said again, this time looking the blonde directly in the eye. She left no doubt as to what she meant.

Emma dipped her head and chose not to notice. "I love it here. I used to come when I lived in Storybrooke. When I needed some time out. I found this place when I got hopelessly lost this one day, and I fell in love. It's just so stunning. I remember once wondering how it would look glowing with lanterns. Now I know."

Regina swirled the wine in her glass and smirked. "How come I never knew you got so lost?"

"It's not something I wanted to advertise," Emma said and looked faintly embarrassed. "I am sure you wouldn't have let me hear the end of it. 'Sheriff loses Storybrooke, news at ten'."

Regina pressed her lips together and couldn't deny it.

"So what is this about?" the brunette asked curiously. "Why are we here?"

"We're here to see the secrets of the universe," Emma stated grandly, with a grin. "And because yesterday I didn't just read one card of yours, I read two."

"Oh?"

"Mmm."

"Which one?"

Emma put her plate and wine glass to one side and lay back. After a moment's silence, Regina followed suit. They lay side by side, looking up at the night sky and listening to the sounds of the nightlife and music. Regina shivered and Emma reached down and pulled a thick blanket up over them – one the mayor recognised as belonging to the B&B. _Ruby had certainly been generous in her help._

An owl hooted in the distance.

Regina waited.

"Your card said: 'I have never been taken on a date. Deep down I sometimes feel I must be unworthy of such attention."

Regina stared up at the inky sky and tried hard not to let her own words affect her. The truth was she was ashamed no one had ever asked her out. Leopold didn't have to. Kings just take their due. Her lip curled in loathing. Daniel didn't get a chance. And Graham – well he was there for tension relief, nothing more – and had never exhibited the slightest romantic bone in his dull body. Nor did she want him to. But no one had ever treated her like a woman who deserved to be wooed. And no one had ever once asked Regina Mills out.

"Ah," she said uncomfortably when she realised Emma seemed to be waiting for a comment.

"So I wanted to give you a date to remember, Regina," Emma said softly, "Because I had never been on a date either - until I met you."

Regina felt shock surge through her body and she whipped her neck around to stare at the blonde. "Really? You?"

"Yep," Emma said. "Sex does not a date make. Entrapping sneaky bail jumpers doesn't count either. But I remember what it felt like when you took me for dinner and dancing in Boston. That was an amazing night and you made me feel so special, even if I was pretty much all over the place emotionally. And I wanted you to have that feeling I had – to feel worthy. And special."

Regina leaned forward and kissed Emma's cheek. She dusted the spot with her thumb as though sealing it. "Thank you," she whispered in her ear, and trailed her fingers through her long curling hair. "This is amazing." She paused. "What's this music? It's so haunting."

"Kate Bush – very '90s. But she seems to match the setting rather well, don't you think?"

Regina lay back and closed her eyes. "Yes, it's eerie and beautiful all at once. Like two lonely ghosts dancing."

Emma glanced at her and gave a small appreciative smile, then reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Two lonely ghosts dancing. Yeah. A lot like us, huh?"

The temperature had dropped a few degrees, even with the heater on, so Emma pulled up a second blanket and snuggled closer.

"So, where are these secrets of the universe you promised me?" Regina asked, enjoying the feel of the other woman's closeness. Her body heat was keeping her cosy.

"You're staring at them."

"Hmm?"

"The stars – look. Storybrooke is so far out of civilisation there's no ambient glow from any city lights. It means we can see so much more of our galaxy. Right now we're looking at light from stars that has travelled thousands of light years to reach us. Some of the stars may have already burned out and no longer exist. We could basically be gazing at the glows of the last traces of long-dead suns.

"And how is that providing us with the secrets of the universe?" Regina asked quietly, intrigued by the wonder and enthusiasm she could hear in the voice of a woman normally so guarded.

"Don't you see, Regina? We are small. Our worries are _tiny_ on a galactic scale. We're specks of specks of dust compared to all this." Her arm swept across the sky in front of her. "It puts everything into perspective. Whatever fears we might have or issues or silly concerns – they are nothing when put next to the vast scale of infinity. The backdrop of the universe is a freaking sobering thing."

Regina digested that and stared up. She did feel small compared to the stars. She always had, even when she strutted around a castle and barked orders at armies of a thousand men. Looking up made her feel small. So, in decades gone by, she made it a policy to never ever look up.

Tonight, Regina Mills looked up. And in a brief moment she understood: Sometimes it was OK to be small. That was nothing to fear.

She gazed in amazement.

_What a concept._

"Do you see?" Emma asked softly.

"I think I do," Regina whispered. And she meant it.

She turned to Emma and studied her profile in the dancing lantern light. "Does this mean your fears about us now feel small and in perspective, too?"

Emma's lips curled in amusement at the leading question. "Smaller."

Regina slid closer and slipped a hand over Emma's waist, drawing them together. She rested her head against the blonde's chest, enjoying the thudding of her heart. It picked up its pace.

"A shooting star!" Emma exclaimed and her arm shot up to point.

"Mmm hmm," Regina said absently, and began to nuzzle the blonde's neck. "Lovely."

She felt eyes drop to watch her. "Regina, I don't think your mind is on the wonders of the universe."

The mayor gave a throaty chuckle which reverberated through both their chests. "Oh, I'd say it most definitely is."

Emma sucked in a breath and let it out shakily.

"I … ah..."

Regina plucked at the buttons of Emma's shirt and then looked up at her hopefully. "Emma?" she said, asking a vague question that needed no further explanation.

"Um…" Fear briefly crossed the blonde's eyes. Then she drifted her gaze skyward. "Yes," she said and swallowed. "I … Yes."

A smile lit up the brunette's face and her fingers began to now tug at the buttons in earnest. Warm fingers slid inside as she finally undid four buttons only to curse as she discovered a black tank top underneath.

"Dear, you're rugged up like an Arctic explorer," she complained. She tapped her fingers against the offending material and pouted.

That broke the tension and Emma laughed aloud, nudging Regina off her so she could sit up. The blonde drew the long-sleeved half unbuttoned shirt off herself, and then quickly stripped off the tank and a white bra, giving the mayor a generous view of pale skin and rounded bare breasts, swaying gently. Emma shivered and slipped the thick shirt back on but did not button it. She lay back down and tossed her tank top in the general direction of the tent.

Regina swallowed. Her fingers were suddenly inside the shirt, ghosting over warm flesh, seeking out soft breasts. Her hands shook as she felt for the hardening peaks and then she leant forward, flicking the shirt away with her knuckles, and dropped her mouth to a tight knot.

Her tongue licked and swirled across the nipple, and she occasionally paused to nibble and lightly chew, delighting in the choked gasps she could hear from the blonde beneath her. She swapped nipples and moaned herself.

"Well dear," Regina said after a moment, eyes sliding up to Emma's, "You certainly are tasty."

" _Fuck_ ," Emma muttered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"I intend to. _Patience_."

Emma's breath hitched and Regina paused and watched in fascination as her chest rose and fell more rapidly.

"Take it off," Emma suddenly hissed. "Your shirt. I want to see you, too."

Regina felt arousal skitter through her at the brazen demand. She looked at the lust-blown irises of the woman beneath her and quickly leaned back, unbuttoning her shirt and slipping it off her shoulders. Her fitted designer tee underneath went next. She stared at the blonde in nothing but a lacy black bra.

Hands shot out from under the blanket and began to touch her, so, so gently. A deep sigh followed, but Regina was unsure whose it was.

"Off – take it off," Emma groaned. So Regina reached behind herself and unlatched her bra.

Her breasts fell free and she felt Emma's eyes boring into her. The blonde's mouth had dropped slightly open, taking in the sight of breasts, and dusky red-tipped nipples jutting out against the cold night air. Hands suddenly reached for them, sliding and kneading, and Regina felt a bolt of heat shoot directly her to her core.

This time she knew the moaned sigh was hers.

She lowered herself down onto Emma, pressing their breasts together. Skin on skin, in a most delicious sensation of flesh and fevered friction. She slid a leg between Emma's, and leaned forward for a demanding kiss.

This kiss was better than any she had experienced before so far. Their tongues duelled and fought, as their bodies rocked, tops of thighs rubbing against molten cores. Closer now. Regina could feel her centre aching for attention. Mingled moans were filling the night air.

"Need to feel you, please, please let me feel you," Emma whispered, as if reading her mind, when they finally tore themselves away from each other's lips, gasping for air.

The brunette lifted herself off Emma and put her weight on her forearms. Invitation made. Emma seized the opportunity to undo the single button and side zip on Regina's pants and push the fabric hastily down to her knees.

Regina felt the blonde's warm, questing fingers sliding down towards her centre, pausing to first scritch at her coarse, fine curls hidden inside her silky panties. Fingers now slipped lower and dusted and wriggled against her outer folds, a slightly cooler sensation against her blazing heat.

It was sublime.

She bucked and then pushed forward, forcing the roaming, scrabbling, maddening fingers to find and rub against her clit. She was gasping at the sensations. The exploring fingers wiggled further down and then Emma's wrist paused and twisted, slipping fingers inside her, into her copious wetness.

Her body clenched instantly at the intrusion.

"Oh!" Regina gasped and froze. She bit her lip and stared at Emma, startled.

The sensation had suddenly shifted from wonderful to … something else. Something darker.

Anxiety flitted across her features and Emma immediately saw it, green eyes registering shock, and pulled her fingers quickly out.

"S-sorry," she said, eyes impossibly wide. She pulled her liquid-coated hand up and, unseeingly, shifted it to her mouth as if by rote, licking her fingers. And then she also froze. A look of horror crossed her features as she dropped her hand like it was a searing hot poker.

"I recognise your taste," Emma whispered in a strangled voice. "I had tried to forget it…" She bit her lip and paled.

"I remember the feeling of your fingers in me," Regina whispered back in anguish. "It brings back other … feelings. Not pleasant ones." They looked at each other fearfully for a moment.

"What do we do now?" Emma asked in a small voice.

The sounds of nature seemed impossibly loud as neither spoke.

"I should have realised. Archie warned me this might happen," Regina said, breathing raggedly. She tried to soothe her beating heart, trying to remember the psychiatrist's calming strategies. At least this wasn't one of her panic attacks. It was more an unsavoury reminder of certain events. Unpleasant rather than anything else.

"Archie?! You told him about wanting … us? I mean a-a… sexual relationship?"

"Yes." Regina's heart rate was now back to normal, she noted, and the anxiety seemed to have drifted just beneath the surface again. She exhaled in relief and chanced a look at Emma.

The blonde looked outraged and Regina almost laughed. "Well I had to tell him, dear, if I wanted there to _be_ an 'us'. I discovered I am not particularly good at progressing my mental health all by myself. Neither of us are, now are we?"

Emma looked away. "I guess not."

The blonde shifted her legs uncomfortably and Regina's nose twitched. _Oh_. She realised the blonde was both confused, worried … and still greatly aroused. She sighed.

"Maybe you should take care of your, er, situation? Yourself?" Regina said tightly.

"What?!"

"Do I really have to spell it out?"

"Clearly."

"Masturbate, dear, before you immolate."

Emma looked at her angrily, obviously dying to say she wasn't aroused, that she didn't still feel pent up. That it wasn't possible given what had just happened. Shame and humiliation darkened her features.

"I can tell," Regina explained simply, easily reading the thoughts darting across stormy green eyes. She stared back up at the stars. "I can smell your arousal. I can hear your heart thudding away. I know. And it's OK. I really don't mind."

"It's not OK," Emma said crossly. "How can it be OK for me to just … you know … like nothing's happened. And with you right here. I'm not an animal."

Regina almost laughed. "Of course you are, dear. We all are. And I just said I don't mind. Just go ahead and get it over with. I'll even look the other way if it helps."

She rolled over onto her side and affected an uninterested posture.

There was silence for several minutes and she finally peered back to see Emma staring at her darkly.

"Regina," the blonde intoned and exhaled heavily, "while I admire how pragmatic as all hell you can be at times, this is not how I pictured our first time making love."

"Oh?" Regina turned back, suddenly vaguely interested in the conversation's turn. "How did you picture it?"

"Mutual for one thing," Emma said in frustration. "And not giving you flashbacks for another. So it's all in or none in on the sexy times tonight."

"Oh," Regina repeated, looking at the dark determination in the eyes opposite.

"So unless you want to join me in a bit of simultaneous, DIY self-exploration, we should go back to watching the wonders of the universe."

Emma flopped back with a disappointed sigh and stared up into space. Her breath then caught and she suddenly looked intrigued. "Wait, you don't do you?"

Regina glanced over.

"I mean you could, too? You know, attend to your needs at the same time I do," Emma finished. "Never mind. It's a stupid idea. Grandeur of the universe it is."

A jolt of fear shot through Regina and her lips thinned.

"Hey, what is it?" Emma's voice softened.

"I'd like to, Emma, but I can't."

Emma stared at her uncomprehendingly. Regina sighed. "I've tried and I can't. Not since that day … on the staircase." She brought her arms up and hugged herself and willed the utter embarrassment not to show on her face.

Emma's mouth opened in shock and she stared at her.

Regina wished she hadn't said anything. "Stop looking at me like that," she demanded. "I feel like a zoo exhibit."

"I'm so sor..."

"No! Not back to this again! I don't want your pitying apologies." Regina's eyes flashed. "I just want us to be an 'us'. Why is this so hard?!"

She suddenly slapped her hand against the mattress in irritation. Then dropped her other hand across her eyes, to hide the tears she felt building.

"Maybe," Emma began hesitantly, "you just need the right … um … stimulation?"

Regina froze and snapped her eyes open, turning to Emma curiously. "Excuse me?"

"I think maybe – well clearly - we're not ready to be together-together. Y-yet. But I might be able to help get you in the mood to help you? Because, shit Regina, two years is way too long to have absolutely zero orgasms. That sort of torture should be against the Geneva Convention."

"Tell me about it," the mayor muttered softly.

Emma smiled coyly at that and slid her shirt off her shoulders. Naked from the top down now she stared intently at Regina as she began to play with her own breasts, never once taking her eyes off her.

She began to rub and tweak her nipples and watched as the mayor's eyes darkened with desire. She arched her back and wiggled her hips a little, which caused her breasts to gently sway.

"God," Regina swore softly, completely transfixed. Before she realised it, her own hand had slid down her pants, still hidden by the blanket.

Emma gave a small smile as she noted the hand movement. She stood, stepping off the air mattress, and shimmied her jeans down her legs, until she was standing nearly naked in the ghostly surrounds, only wearing small white cotton underwear. She moved until she was standing near the heater.

Regina could see a prominent damp spot at her crotch and her eyes widened, flicking back up to Emma's face.

The blonde slowly, achingly slowly, hooked her thumbs into the sides of the panties and pulled them down her long legs. She swayed evocatively in time with the music, rolling her shoulders and hips, her hair shimmering like a golden veil. Then she kicked her panties completely off her feet and stood stark naked. One hand touched her breasts, rolling her nipples. The other, her fingers slid down to her stomach, and then buried themselves into a small triangle of dark hair, curling inside, nestling deeper. Then they began to move in a timeless rhythm.

"Oh…"

The word was quiet and carried on the night air, and this time Regina realised she had been the one to say it. She felt wetness pooling between her thighs, certainly far more than she had felt in many, many months. She wiggled her fingers and felt an answering flash of arousal.

Emma gave her a hint of a smile at the sound and took her hand out from between her thighs and held it up to show it was glistening with her desire. Then she turned around and bent over at the waist, running her hands down thighs to rest on her calves, and shook her hips, providing the transfixed mayor with a spectacular view.

She turned back around. She looked Regina right in the eye, and gave a seductive, knowing smile. She licked her lips as she resumed touching herself, swaying once more to the music in the background.

Regina felt her heart hammering and her fingers began to dance rapidly over her folds, raking liquid across her bundle of nerves. Emma, watching her with scorching eyes, shuddered and then spread her swollen lips, showing Regina her most private secrets. The light caught the shadows and smooth skin and she appeared to be a mystical goddess. She shifted again and Regina could see she was incredibly wet.

She gasped, and a powerful tingle shot through her. "Oh god," she croaked. "Oh, hell…Oh fuck, fuck, fuck."

Her fingers were now drenched, her clit was so aroused, and she could feel herself clenching and unclenching in her lower stomach. "I think I'm going to…" she groaned, and her eyes shot up to look at Emma in wonder, and she parted her mouth.

Emma smiled encouragingly and plunged her own fingers inside herself, offering an almost primal moan. It suited the setting, with the haunting music, and strange flickering lights in the trees.

Regina's back arched, her hips thrust forward, and her last sight was dark eyes watching her hungrily before the mayor slammed her eyes shut and a keening noise erupted from her throat.

Her orgasm spread through her like warm, liquid honey, the most intense one she had ever experienced, and it filled her with such joy she knew it must be showing, or more likely, radiating, off her face.

She heard a different moan and her eyes flickered open. Emma was coming. Fingers were a blur as they danced across her clit and dipped in and out. Regina watched as the other woman's knees suddenly buckled and she landed heavily on the mattress, a hand still pumping between her legs.

"Oh hell," she gasped, shaking.

It took a minute for Regina to realise the woman was not just shaking from her orgasm but seemed to be cold.

"Come here," she demanded and threw back her blankets.

Emma gratefully accepted the offer and slid next to her.

"You are crazy, you know that," Regina tsked, pulling her close to her, and rubbing her back vigorously. "And I have no clue in the slightest how you can orgasm while freezing half to death!"

Emma gave a lazy smile and snuggled closer. "Mind over matter," she grinned, pushing her cold nose into Regina's neck. "And trust me, my mind is plenty overheated right now."

"Mmm," the brunette smiled in spite of herself.

Emma was indeed warming up exceedingly fast and showing absolutely no signs of discomfort.

Quite the opposite, in fact, if the neck nuzzling and almost feline purring were anything to go by.

"So my idea worked then?" Emma finally asked when she had cocooned herself happily against Regina. It was a redundant question. Regina knew there had been no hiding her completely earth-shattering orgasm.

"I think you know," Regina said and poked Emma's ribs, trying not to feel embarrassed.

Emma grinned unrepentantly. "I am really, really glad Regina. And I loved watching you come."

Regina rolled her eyes.

"God you are so fucking hot," Emma continued. "The way you moaned and lifted up your hips and swore at the heavens like a fucking sailor…"

"I did no such thing!"

"Oh you most certainly did. Just before you had lift off. Shit! I almost came from hearing you."

Regina flushed darkly, pleased the night hid it, and growled: "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Emma grinned. "Right, so next time we'll iron out some of the kinks so I don't risk hypothermia, but I have to say you were amazing."

Regina quirked an eyebrow cockily. "Next time?"

Emma stopped gloating immediately and sat up. The blanket fell from her bare shoulder but she didn't seem to notice. "There will be one, won't there?" she asked worriedly.

Regina silently watched, to her dissatisfaction, how quickly the fears and insecurities seemed to bubble up inside the other woman. "Plenty of next times," she agreed swiftly, and shifted the blanket back up to cover Emma's shoulder.

"Good," Emma said softly, and lowered herself back to the mattress. She slid a hand back over Regina's waist and removed any space between them. "I think that is … shit, yeah. Really good."

"So eloquent."

Emma snorted.

"And dignified, dear." Amusement danced in Regina's eyes and voice.

"And all yours," Emma answered sleepily, hunkering down for the night. "Don't forget you wanted this. Me."

"Indeed," Regina agreed quietly. "All mine."


	50. BRUSHING AGAINST THE STARS

They woke in the tent, side by side, coccooned comfortably in separate sleeping bags.

Emma yawned and rubbed her eyes, vaguely remembering in the middle of the night waking up freezing cold and finding Regina shivering faintly against her. She had felt foolish they hadn't moved "inside" hours before and she bundled up the mayor in blankets and pointed her into the tent. Then the blonde did a streak moments later, throwing herself into the fat, downy sleeping bag, moaning loudly in relief the second toasty warmth saturated her body.

"You left your clothes outside," was Regina's only wry comment as she zipped up her bag firmly. The mayor at least had the presence of mind to rescue her pants and her tee-shirt and was now clad and cosy.

"I'm not going back for them," Emma muttered tiredly. She briefly wondered if she should suggest they join their two bags. Before she could formulate the right words, she felt a heaviness weigh down her eyelids.

They were both back asleep in no time.

The morning sun was creeping over the trees, lighting up the tent in a filtered, dappled yellow. Emma shifted to look at the woman in the sleeping bag beside hers. Her hair was mussed and her face unlined without worries, regrets or memories, an arm crooked underneath her head. Her pillow had wound up a few feet away, discarded in the night. Regina looked years younger - and seemed completely, captivatingly radiant.

For a minute Emma just stared, unblinking, barely breathing. She couldn't resist leaning over and nudging an errant sweep of brunette hair out of tightly shut eyes.

She let her hand flatten and faintly stroked the side of the brunette's face.  _So soft._  She sighed. She rolled fully onto her side and kissed the brunette's cheek, lips lingering.

"Miss Swan, that had better be you," a voice said thickly, dripping with amusement.

Emma smirked. "You need to ask? Were you expecting someone else?"

Regina fluttered her eyes open. "Can't say that I was." She flashed white even teeth. "Now are you going to keep me waiting or will you give me a more adventurous good morning kiss? I may be ensconced in Boy Scout bedding, but I'd rather not do 'chaste' at my age."

Emma laughed, leaned forward and softly said, "By all means, Madame Mayor. No chaste." She kissed her gently, then slid just the tip of her tongue along the mayor's lips playfully.

Regina's eyes sparked and narrowed at the tease and darted across to stare at Emma. Halfway out of her sleeping bag in order to lean over to Regina's face, Emma was only too aware she was naked. She glanced down. And her bare breasts had somehow slid into view like a store window display. She couldn't bring herself to feel embarrassed and offered her best sexy grin.

The mayor sucked in a deep breath.

"Like what you see, Regina?" Emma asked innocently.

The mayor licked her lips. She looked back at Emma and the want written over her face was all the answer the blonde needed.

Emma slowly, achingly slowly, unzipped the side of her bag and lay on her back. She curled the top of the padded bag up, just a little, exposing a long but narrow side length of calf, thigh, hip, and arm. Bare and teasing - ready for closer inspection. She waited, heart pounding.

Regina stared, eyes darkening, raking the thin expanse of skin.

Then she unzipped her own bag, too.

For a moment neither woman spoke.

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement. Regina apparently was sliding off her pants, which, after a moment, impatiently flew out of the sleeping bag in a black blur. Next, lace dark panties arced across the tent, too. Emma swallowed convulsively as she identified what they were. A designer tee-shirt finally followed. Eyes swivelled to look at the blonde.

Emma gulped and quietly tried to process the fact that the object of her dreams, desires, love and occasionally anguish was now completely naked, one foot away from her.

"Emma?" came a low growl, much huskier than she'd ever heard the mayor's voice before. "Come here."

The blonde didn't need to be asked twice. She flung back the cover of her own bag and slid over, edging her bare body on top of Regina's. It was a tight-ish fit. And hot.  _Very, very hot._

They both slowly began a gentle pulsing rhythm, and slid skin against skin, as Emma dropped kisses down Regina's throat. She nuzzled behind her ear and smiled into her shoulder when the brunette gave a small, surprised gasp and arched.

Regina paused, lifting a flat hand to Emma's shoulder. Emma merely nibbled lower.

"Ground rules," the mayor whispered urgently, her voice hitching as she eyed Emma's dedicated explorations. "Please, no, ah,  _oooh there_ , going inside. For now. Until we - you know, sort out this, ah, situation,  _God!_  But outside is f-fine."

Emma nodded into her chest and latched on to a nipple. "Mmm," Emma agreed. "I'll say. Outside is  _very, very_  fine."

"I also very much want to taste you," Regina added and her voice was weird. Emma froze from her ardent nipple worship and glanced up to discover a face flushing furiously, embarrassment clearly warring with desire. "I understand if..." Regina hesitated. "If you cannot return the favour given the circumstances but that's OK," she said, rushing on, shutting her eyes briefly before continuing. "I mean it's not, er,  _necessary_. For me. Today."

Emma blinked down at Regina, wondering when she had ever seen her look quite so embarrassed.

This stuff was hard. Hard to talk about. Emma didn't want to, but Regina was right. Yet again the brave one, Emma mused. She watched Regina's brown eyes boring through her, as if pleading for her to say something. Anything.

The blonde nodded and dropped a kiss back on tan skin. "Sounds like a plan," she said as quietly and matter of factly as she could manage. No need to make it any more awkward than it already was. She gave her a small smile and peppered her breasts with distracting kisses. "But I want you to know I intend to work long and hard on being able to 'return the favour' at some point. Because I want you to see stars on that day when I bury myself between your legs."

There was no doubting the effect Emma's words had as Regina bucked instantly against her, hard, gasping out a shocked "Oh god, Emma!"

Emma gave a feral grin, and her hand snaked down. Lower. She threaded fingers in cropped curls, already soaked with wetness, swollen and so, so ready. Her fingers danced down to Regina's clit and began to swirl lightly, providing more pressure as moisture immediately slicked her fingers. She was careful to brush Regina's entrance but not go inside, as she had asked. Just the faint brushes made Regina moan and twitch, wriggling impatiently. Emma watched her face, the emotions flitting past - longing, lust, hunger, desire, delight - and felt herself amazed she was doing this. Creating that expression. She skidded her fingers back up to the brunette's clit, rubbing in tight circles, and then leaned forward, latching her lips on a nipple, laving it fiercely with her tongue.

Regina's head snapped back and she bared her teeth, eyes flashing wildly as if unable to quite comprehend how much pleasure she was experiencing. "Emma," was all she hissed, in a low voice.

Her thighs tensed and un-tensed, her breathing became deeper and more ragged. And suddenly all of her body went taut. Regina's moan was long, deep, and loud and Emma dropped her head against her chest, hearing the thundering of the mayor's powerful heart, never for a moment slowing the fingers pleasuring her.

The twitching subsided and Regina slowly lifted her head again and eyed Emma. "Stop now, dear," she said breathily. "I think two orgasms in two days after such a long drought is something of a shock to my system."

Emma watched her with a lazy smile, unbelievably pleased by how satisfied and thoroughly, delightfully fucked the other woman looked. She brought her glistening fingers up to her mouth, green eyes focused on Regina.

The mayor caught her wrist in trembling fingers before Emma's lips made contact. "No," she whispered urgently. "Remember?"

Emma felt the memory crash around her, like a bullet tearing through flesh, and gasped in what almost felt like pain, wrenching her hand from Regina's grip in dismay. She turned away, onto her side, her back to Regina. All joy erased from her in a split second. "God. I... Thanks. F-forgot."

Strong arms pulled her back against Regina's body, stroking her reassuringly. "Hey, sssh, it's OK. It's easy to forget. In fact I hope one day we will completely forget..." She didn't finish the thought.

She didn't have to.

Emma felt hands smoothing across her back and snaking under her arm to cup her breasts. Nimble fingers sought out her nipple and Emma found herself surprised to feel a lurch in her lower abdomen as she felt the tentative touch.

"Would you like me to continue?" asked the sultry voice rumbling against her back.

Emma bit her lip and her hand came up to press Regina's hard against her breast. "Yes."

Regina pulled her over and then flung off the sleeping bag top cover. She sensuously straddled Emma's hips, a small knowing smile watching her as she did so, her dark triangle rubbing against Emma's. She looked down at her imperiously. Like a queen, Emma thought fleetingly, gazing up in wonder. The wetness of their centres mingled and the blonde moaned.  _A queen with sublime, erotic skills._

"Ohhh," she whispered when Regina wiggled her hips again and offered a thoroughly naughty smile.

"You like that, dear?" she asked rhetorically and then leaned forward, capturing Emma's lips in her own, plundering her, her tongue sending sparks throughout the blonde's body. All the while Regina rubbed and rocked against her, her slick, heated wetness sliding over Emma's.

"Gah," was all Emma could think to say, her brain fusing stupidly when Regina finally paused from kissing her. Her addled reply seemed to please the mayor whose eyes danced in amusement, and earned Emma another grinding against her overheated groin.

"I said before that I want to taste you," Regina said, eyes glittering. "I meant it. If you're agreeable of course." She added the latter with a challenging voice, dripping with sultry dark promises.

Emma's chest rose and fell sharply as she sucked in a breath and tried to imagine it. Those ruby red lips parted briefly above her and Emma felt like she was about to explode at the mere idea of where else they soon might be positioned.

"Yes," she groaned. "God, yes. Do it. Take me."

Regina Mills was kissing her way down Emma's body before the blonde could even process it. She blinked as her hips felt kisses. Then her belly button was ringed in a dash of impertinent pink tongue. Faint stretchmarks - Henry - were licked in an oh-so-reverent swipe and Emma had no doubt Regina had figured out where they came from.

Her tongue and fingers meandered further south. Emma's legs were pushed wide apart, far wider than she ever would open them herself. She heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced down to see the brunette's entranced look, examining her with eyes burning darkly, lips parting slightly, moments before she dipped her head.

And then she felt it. A wet tongue bisecting her drenched folds, then sliding from her base up to her clit. Then down again. Emma almost howled. She bucked and a hand flew out, anchoring itself in brown hair, threading, kneading, massaging, part benediction, holding her against her, whimpering.  _Regina Mills was licking her._  Emma felt she might come from thought alone.

Regina was having none of that. She controlled Emma's mounting arousal with a confidence that took Emma's breath away. Regina licked and swiped, urging trembles and moans from her, scooping up her liquid on her tongue and spreading it over her folds. She took her to the brink several times. And each time Emma announced she was on the edge and "ohgodohgodohgod", she would hear a deliciously wicked chuckle against her most intimate skin and firm, seductive words, declaring "Not yet, dear."

Emma knew she was barely remembering to breathe by the time she felt two fingers edge inside her and wiggle. Her senses had switched off sometime between Regina humming against her tender flesh and groaning into her as she licked as though she was indulging in a deliciously sinful chocolate treat.

Emma's thighs were shaking now, her gasping a halting background thrum, offset by the embarrassingly wet noises emerging from between her legs that would make her blush if only they weren't so fucking hot. And being made by Regina.

Ohgodohgodohgod, her mind screamed again, or was it her mouth? Did she say that out loud? She lost track. And then Regina sucked hard on her clit and twisted her fingers further, deeper and, oh fuck, up right there, and blew against her fevered heat. Then she was whispering, "Now Emma, come for me now, I want to see you come. Show me everything."

It was too much. The tremors turned into an earthquake and her orgasm shook her like a worthless rag doll. Her back arched. Her hands flew from Regina's soft hair to her own achingly hard nipples to finally cover her face. But a hand immediately lifted and gently pulled her fingers away with a soft "No, dear, I want to see."

Emma let them drop and opened her eyes and locked onto brown depths as the ecstasy, relief and ... something much deeper, more primal and connected ... rolled over her, in wave after wave.

Regina held on, watching closely, her half-lidded expression seemed to be of barely contained wonder and awe. Then she lowered her head and returned to licking contentedly, drawing out the last of the trembles, but never once took her eyes off Emma's.

"Enough," the blonde begged weakly when her sensitive folds protested.

She felt the smile before she saw it, as Regina sat up, her chest red from exertion, supple breasts swaying. Her hair was everywhere. She wiped the wet smear off her chin and licked her fingers like a cat which had the cream. She was a vision and Emma's heart clenched.

"God," she husked, her eyes wide. She gazed at her. "You're..."

"Yes, dear?"

Emma shook her head. Pointless to put into words. How could she? She sighed and fell silent.

"I had always wondered," Regina broke the quiet, her voice a faint husk, as though she had been the one coming apart at the seams.

"Hmm?" Emma propped herself up on an elbow.

"There are stories I've read of what people in love experience when making love with the objects of their desire," Regina began, before a shadow crossed her face. "I have never been ... involved - sexually to be precise - with anyone who loved me before," she said. She looked away for a moment, a bleakness settling in. Then she resumed haltingly. "I-I wanted to know if the stories were true. About the transcendence of the experience."

Emma exhaled harshly as she heard the sadness and longing in Regina's words.  _No one had ever made love to Regina? Was everyone in her life a blind, stupid fool?_

She would ask her about her sadness later.

"So?" Emma asked, curious. "What did you see? When you made the woman who loves you come so hard she can barely see straight." She offered a cheeky grin.

"The stories are true," Regina said reverently. "This is why people spend their lives pursuing love. Why they fight for it. I know of love more ... obliquely, you might say. Never in a healthy or fulfilling sense. Your eyes told me everything about you. What you feel. What you want. And why it's all worth it. That's what I saw ... i-in your moment of infinite pleasure. It was inspirational."

Emma swallowed and tried to calm her breathing, which was still ragged from her earth-shattering previous ten minutes.

_Had anyone ever loved her body so well? So perfectly?_  She flopped onto her back and gazed unseeingly up at the white tent ceiling. "You are my entire universe," Emma offered suddenly. "The stars, galaxies. The whole enchilada."

Regina slithered - there was no other word for it - up Emma's body and leaned her head against her chest. "If I am the universe, who are you?"

Emma grinned. "The lost homely girl sitting alone on a hill, staring up in wonder at the vast beauty of the heavens. Regina, you radiate this incredible freaking raw energy, like nothing I have experienced before. It makes me come alive. It burns and I just ... Fuck.

"Next to you I ... Well I am just ... me. Emma Swan. Small. Flawed. Undeserving. Unable to quite believe you would ever let me love you - in every sense of the word. But that's OK. I mean - I'm OK about where I fit in the scheme of the universe, I accept who I am. We can't all be like you. A spectacular galaxy." She smiled reassuringly and brought her arms around Regina to hug her close. "I'm at peace with that. I just feel ... lucky to brush against the stars at all."

She shut her eyes and felt a contented drowsiness. It would be so easy to fall asleep now.

"Homely?" a soft voice asked beside her, contorted in dismay. "Emma, don't you know you're beautiful?"

"Mmm maybe a little," Emma mumbled, sleep rapidly catching her. "Physically anyway, to some men whose heads are easily turned. OK I'm gauche then. Clumsy. Messy. The class and deportment of a charging rhino." Her lips twitched. She faded out and was barely audible when she concluded with a weary yawn. "You know what I mean, Regina. You know where I came from. How my life started out. Disposable. I know I was not worthy then. I know I'm broken now. S'okay, though. It's OK. Really."

She never saw the frown mar the lines of the brunette's face above her, as her eyes fluttered shut. Nor, as she slipped into dreamy unconsciousness, did she see brown eyes watching her face, filled with worry. Or feel the hand trail sorrowfully down her cheek, until it clenched into a quivering fist.

And she never noticed when Regina Mills curled up next to her and let silent tears slip down her face, her trembling fingers stroking Emma's hand.


	51. HEAR THE ANGELS SING

The next time they woke up, in a tangle of overheated limbs and softness, Regina felt heavy. Her eyes slipped over the supple body that was wrapped around her and involuntarily remembered every word the blonde had said a few hours ago. Not beautiful. Homely. Not worthy. Broken.

She bit her lip. _What the hell had she done?_

The other woman stirred, fingers and skin shifting against her, sending a bolt of arousal through to her core that she could no more stifle than stop herself breathing. Her intake of breath was duly noted and a lazy smile drifted onto soft lips hovering dangerously close to her own.

"Morning, Regina," she husked and then the lips dropped against her neck.

The mayor's brown eyes followed their trail down and tried not to notice the electricity flooding her nerve endings as Emma nuzzled against her breast.

An odd snort sounded in the distance. Both women's heads shot up in confusion.

Regina was the first to recover, nudging Emma gently in the ribs to get her to roll off.

"Horse," she muttered.

"Huh?"

"It's a horse," she repeated and sat up and looked around. She found her T-shirt quickly enough. Her panties, though - God only knew where they had gotten to. She spied her pants and slid them on. She felt herself being watched and turned and offered a knowing smile.

"Sorry that you didn't bring your clothes inside now?"

"Nah. Just means you'll fetch them for me."

Regina arched an eyebrow but didn't disagree and sat for a moment to slide on her socks.

"I'll be right back, dear." She rose and unzipped the tent flap and looked around.

Sure enough, slowly picking their way up a grassy trail, were a pair of horses, side by side. She squinted at the riders and noted that at least one was wildly out of place. Regina hid her smirk. Like seeing your dentist at a baseball game, she supposed, as she identified Dr Hopper.

The unmistakeable shape of his rugged new husband was beside him, but her attention was focused on her psychiatrist and the nervous way the bespectacled man sat in the saddle.

 _So - not a natural horseman then._ She watched for a beat more as they chatted together and realised she hadn't yet been noticed.

She strode over to the air mattress and swiftly gathered a bundle of Emma's clothes and returned to the tent.

"Matt and Archie," she announced.

She dropped the clothes on Emma's bedding, faltering only for a moment when the blonde immediately pushed off the sleeping bag and stood, gloriously naked, to get dressed. Regina drunk in the sight, darkening eyes transfixed, and noted the blonde virtually preening under the attention. She twisted her lips in a small smirk and headed back outside.

The men noticed her this time and, with a look of profound gratefulness, Dr Hopper pulled on his reins and offered a grin.

"Not much for riding, Doctor?" she asked him, watching as he awkwardly ejected himself from the saddle in a semi-controlled fall, under Matt's amused gaze. He looked like an urban cowboy trying far too hard in his new jeans and embroidered apricot shirt.

The other man stayed on his mount for a few more moments before climbing languidly off with an ease born of decades of practice.

"Matt's trying to get me into it," Archie replied, neatly dodging the question. He pushed his glasses further back on his nose.

Regina cocked her head up at the taller man. "And how's that coming along then?" she asked although she could plainly see the answer.

The man mountain smiled agreeably. "Slowly but surely, Mayor Mills." He glanced around, and she followed his eyes which paused on the strewn blankets and cushions of their outdoor bedding.

And then Emma stepped out of the tent, still buckling up her belt. Matt's eyes pointedly met Regina's.

She knew how it looked. She forced any embarrassment from her expression because, for God's sake, they were both adults, both equals, and both deserved ... she frowned at feeling so defensive over it ... _companionship_.

She sighed as her eyes snuck over to Archie and she watched as he drew the same conclusion as his towering spouse.

The doctor's expression was speculative but his sharp eyes seemed a hell of a lot more ... _knowing_ ... than Matt's had. If that was even possible.

"Hey guys," Emma waved and strode over, dodging a stray cushion and Regina's boots, and looking for all the world like the morning after a romantic sleepover in the middle of nowhere was a perfectly ordinary place to bump into acquaintances.

 _Friends_ , Regina amended. That was a concept she'd still been trying to get her head around of late. She actually had a few of those now, whether she wanted to or not.

"I'd offer you a cup of joe, but we don't have any," the blonde continued cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the weighty silence.

"S'okay," Matt rumbled. "We just had breakfast. We were heading back to the ranch. Gotta get prepped for the weekend."

Regina smiled. "Yes. Well thanks again for doing that," she said and folded her arms across her chest. The cold morning air was starting to bite. She couldn't for the life of her remember where her shirt had ended up. Then she spied it, absurdly hanging from her car's side mirror. _How the hell did it get all the way over there?_ When Archie's gaze intersected hers and clocked it too, she just shook her head warningly.

The man suppressed a smile. She narrowed her eyes at him evilly.

"What's happening on the weekend?" Emma asked blankly.

"Regina didn't mention?" Archie spoke. "We're holding Henry's birthday party at the ranch. Horse riding, lassoing games, and all that stuff for the kids."

"He's excited," Regina said. She paused.

 _For the kids._ Henry didn't have that many friends. If the annoyingly-eager-to-intervene Miss Blanchard hadn't suggested throwing it open to his entire class she wondered how many he would have actually asked. One? Not for the first time she worried at how her son could have ended up as isolated as she was. Or rather, had been.

"Sounds great," Emma said, interrupting her spiralling thoughts.

"So you'll be there?" Archie asked keenly and tilted his head in a way Regina recognised all too well. _Doctor mode._ She'd have objected if it hadn't been for what he said next. "I mean weren't you leaving us a few days back? And yet here you are."

He smiled then, widely, to take the sting out, and waited. All eyes swung to Emma.

The blonde rammed fists into her jeans pockets and moved her weight to her other foot. "That was then," she mumbled and nudged the ground with a black socked toe. She gave him a sharp glance, as if not appreciating being put on the spot. "Things can change," she added uncomfortably.

Regina felt all eyes swing back to her. She sighed inwardly and felt unwilling to reward the curious stares with any reaction. Her feelings weren't anyone's business anyway. Well, no one's except Emma's.

She tried not to notice her heart rate had suddenly picked up pace as a single thought tumbled through her mind: _Was Emma staying now?_ With a huge force of effort she shut down that train of thought for later dissection and affected her most neutral expression.

The horse Archie had rode in on shifted noisily behind her and Regina moved her eyes over to it, grateful for the distraction. Then her whole face lit up in recognition.

_Oh!_

She walked quickly over and gently stroked its mane. "Peppermint," she said quietly and beamed. "Hello old friend."

Her soft words seemed to break the odd, strained impasse and Matt cleared his throat. He ambled over to Emma and began a genial conversation. Regina could hear them talking in the background as she bent over and stroked the familiar horse's head. The smell of sweat, leather and oats seemed comforting - familiar - and she trailed her fingers through the coarse mane methodically.

"What are you doin' out here, Matt? Hell, we're miles from anywhere!" Emma asked and thumped his bulging bicep with the back of her hand.

"Actually you're on the north-eastern tip of the stables' property," the large man said with a chuckle and folded his arms across his barrel chest, stretching his blue flannel shirt even tighter, testing the seams. "We're cutting through on the way back from my shack."

"This is YOUR land?"

"Yep. You're camped out in Willow Circle."

"Huh. I had no idea this place had an actual name. Shit."

Regina rolled her eyes as she stroked Peppermint's neck. Only Emma could find a way to work a profanity into any topic. Even place names. A shadow fell across her and she smelt a very familiar aftershave.

 _Figures_. She sighed. That man was far too perceptive.

"Yeap," Matt continued in the background. "But have you found Willow Creek yet? You'd love it. It's beautiful. Has these smooth riverbed pebbles in all different colours." When she shook her head, he added: "It's not far."

His eyes flicked over to Archie's and regarded his new spouse for a moment. The men's eyes met.

"Walk with me and I'll show yer right now," Matt told Emma, turning back to her.

"Regina?" Emma asked.

"Hmmm?" The brunette looked up from Peppermint and found keen green eyes fixed on hers.

"Wanna go check out this rainbow rock creek with us?"

Regina's lips curved slightly at her enthusiasm. "You go, I think I'll stay and catch up with Peppermint. I haven't seen her in ages."

Emma gave her sideways grin. "Your loss. Archie?"

"Need to get my land legs back, so no. I'll take a well-earned break." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle and waved them off.

Archie and Regina didn't speak for a while, watching their respective partners stride off discussing the scenery around them animatedly.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Archie asked quietly. His eyes flickered across to the bedding. "Although I could probably make an educated guess."

Regina snorted mirthlessly. "Such arrogance, dear. What on earth makes you think I wanted to talk?"

She walked a few paces and snatched her shirt off the Merc's side mirror and then turned towards the now largely deflated air mattress and sat. She put on her now very rumpled shirt, buttoning it methodically over her T-shirt, and waited.

Archie settled down next to her, and perched, absurdly, on an overstuffed green cushion.

"I like to think I know you quite well by now." He regarded her and plastered on his best listening face. It was utterly maddening and Regina had a brief urge to bare her teeth and say something inappropriate. Instead she settled for an unimpressed growl.

"And how did your beloved spouse know I wanted to talk to you, too?"

"He knows ME quite well by now also." He grinned.

Regina pursed her lips, annoyed at all the presumptions but she couldn't bring herself to outright complain. She _did_ need advice. And here Archie was. She shifted listlessly and couldn't think how to start.

"How was the honeymoon?" Regina stalled, using her blandest tone. She couldn't sound less interested.

Archie looked at her in surprise. " _Really?_ " Then his eyes twinkled as it dawned on her what she'd just asked. It's not like Matt and Archie had had much else to do, beyond the glaringly obvious, when they'd headed for their far flung honeymoon shack.

"No." She pressed her lips together firmly. "You're right. Moving right along." She couldn't hide her eyes dancing in amusement, though.

"So then?" Archie asked quietly.

Regina rubbed her forearms to get circulation back in them.

"You told me once that Emma and I were a ... bad idea," Regina began haltingly. "You said we should not get together." She glared at him as though the conversation of so long ago still burned. And, if she was brutally honest, it did. His warning still worried her.

"That was when you weren't ready," Archie corrected her. He spread his hands out. "You weren't healed even remotely well enough to be good for each other. Now you are much improved."

Regina sighed. "Now _I_ am."

"Regina?"

The brunette leaned her head onto the heels of her hands and pressed hard. "I'm ... concerned," she began tightly.

* * *

The ride home in Regina's Mercedes was quiet. Something had happened at the campsite while the blonde had been strolling around with Matt but Emma couldn't figure out what.

She had tried a few jokes, albeit lame as per usual, and received only wan smiles. Regina had flicked her an occasional sad glance, and it was so out of place on the "new improved" mayor she didn't know what to make of it.

After a quarter of an hour with nothing but the hum of the motor - Regina had switched off the radio pointedly when Emma had reached for it - the mayor cleared her throat.

"Archie has offered to do some sessions with you."

Emma snapped her head to the left so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

"What? Why?"

"You said yourself you still feel broken. He helped me. He wants to help you. Obviously it's up to you."

The words were bleached of emotion. Almost bland.

Tan fingers on the steering wheel tightened, however, and Emma watched curiously as the knuckles turned white. Regina seemed, by sheer force of finger pressure, to be trying to compel herself not to say anything more.

"Then I choose no," Emma said carefully.

Silence fell in the car for five more minutes before Regina spoke again. One word, wrenched from her throat.

"Why?"

Emma turned to look at the mayor's profile, admiring the way her dark brown hair kinked as it hit her shoulders, the softness of skin at her neck. She liked that neck very much.

"Emma?" The voice was softer this time, but still strained.

_Oh. Right._

"I don't do so well at that stuff. Talking. About me. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. Or die."

"How's that working out for you then?" A hint of Regina 1.0 lurked in that dry sarcasm and Emma felt her indignation rise.

She'd been through enough nosy social workers and case workers while going in and out foster homes. All pretending to give a shit, none really helping her when she needed it in any practical, real way. Just scribbling their snooty notes. Notes they never shared. Like they were stealing chunks of her soul, one paragraph at a time.

"I thought you said this was up to me?" she challenged.

"It is. But I also want you to feel ... happy.''

"The way _you_ are?"

Regina's lips tightened. "What do you mean?"

"You're not happy. I see sad eyes looking at me. Right now."

"How do you know they're not sad because I wish I could help you? Because I want you to be happier?"

"You just admitted they're sad."

Silence.

"I suppose I did." Regina shrugged. It did not come off as a lighthearted gesture. It was stiff. Awkward. "We can all be better than we are. I sometimes wish I had made different choices. I'm sure you're the same."

Emma leaned against the car window and stared out. "Was that a dig about the staircase?" she asked flatly. "About that fucked-up day? About all the bad choices I made then and since?"

Regina hit the brakes suddenly. The screech of tires filled their ears.

Emma's eyes blinked open wide and glanced around the car now stopped cold in the middle of a dirt road. The engine shuddered to a halt.

She shifted her eyes worriedly over to the brunette who seemed to be breathing quickly and blinking angrily at the road in front of her.

Finally Regina slowly turned and stared into her face, brown eyes flashing with an emotion Emma could not identify. "No Emma," she ground out. "It was not. Not everything comes back to that. I want you to listen closely, dear."

The mayor paused and inhaled sharply. "I have moved on - as much as I can at least. But I have. And, Emma, it's time you did, too."

For a moment they just stared at each other. Emma felt herself swallow. _Easy for you to say_ , she thought churlishly before she remembered exactly what nightmares - literally - she had put the other woman through. She ground her molars, appalled at herself. _No, not easy for her at all._ She felt ashamed and looked at her hands, twisting viciously in her lap. She anxiously wet her lips.

She couldn't do counseling. She shuddered at the thought.

_No freaking way. Right? Hell to the no._

The brunette frowned and then looked away, restarting the engine and pulled away. Darkness seemed to settle over her and Emma wished she knew why. Wished she could magically spirit it away. Wave her hands and say just the right words.

"I love you Regina," Emma found herself offering to the air between them.

Huh. She puzzled at what she'd just said. She had slid it out there like some sort of salve.

She'd told Regina she loved her before, but it was like a ballistic missile she'd fired at her to explain how angry she'd been that she couldn't rid Regina from her system. She'd also once told her she loved her in an especially shaky display of emotion, when at her lowest ebb. As if to punctuate her own risible patheticness.

And now she was telling her again, not over flowers and romantic dinners while holding her hand and gazing into her eyes like a beautiful woman deserved. No, Emma did it in a car hurtling back to Storybrooke, and only then to soften the sadness she saw in the eyes of the brunette every time Regina looked at her.

Emma briefly considered whether she even knew how to express declarations of love in a normal way.

The stab of shame returned as she acknowledged the mess she was. The mess she kept making of things. As she worried her bottom lip with her teeth she wondered now at the effect the words would have. If at all.

The mayor squeezed her eyes shut briefly. Her hand quickly flicked away something near her eye and returned to the steering wheel.

"Regina?"

She shook her head and stomped the gas pedal. Minutes ticked by. Emma stared at her in consternation.

The mayor eventually flicked a glance at her. "Are you staying then?" She asked flatly. "Seeing you love me and all, dear?"

_Ah. Touche._

"I told Henry I'd stay for his birthday." Emma spoke absently and turned to stare out the window again.

"After the party is what I meant. As you well know."

"You want me to?"

Regina sighed. "You really have to ask that?"

"Yeah. I do. I really do." Emma held her breath. It's not like Regina Mills had ever once uttered those three words back to her.

Regina's mouth pulled downwards. Her expression grew tight. "I want you to stay. You mean ... so much."

"To Henry." Emma whispered hoarsely.

"Yes."

The car noise changed as they turned from the wild dirt road on to ordered bitumen, close to Storybrooke's outskirts now. Emma watched the world whizzing by but barely saw it. She frowned and folded her arms around her ribs, her mood as bleak as she had ever felt.

"And to me," the mayor softly added.

Emma felt her heart lift. "What?"

"Don't make me say it again." The corners of the mayor's mouth moved just enough.

Emma suddenly grinned widely.

"Well why the hell didn't you just say that in the first place? Hell, Regina. Everything's always a mystery with you!"

The mayor said nothing, but didn't appear to disagree.

Emma put a hand on the delicate wrist which rested on the gear stick. "Yeah," she repeated. "If you want me, I'm staying."

Seconds ticked by. Regina leaned forward and turned the radio on at last. The car came alive with a full symphony orchestra. A soprano started up. Like angels singing.

"Then you're staying," the brunette agreed and her lips twitched again. It wasn't like a smile that lit the car or anything so showy. _Heaven forbid._ But Emma could see the telltale curve at the edges of her mouth and the way her eyes had just brightened immeasurably.

 _Oh yeah._ Fuck it.

She was staying.


	52. FEET TO THE FIRE

Regina strode into her mayor's office, briefcase in hand, her stride sharp. Controlled. It belied the roiling emotions going on under her cool features. She nodded to her secretary who handed her a sheaf of brightly coloured messages, banking up from several days of her playing hooky with Emma.

She smiled in spite of herself at the thought and her mood improved as she remembered waking in Emma's arms yesterday. And this morning.

Now _that_ had been incredible. The memory surged through her and she willed her face not to blush. She glanced at her secretary to make sure she hadn't noticed. If she had, she wasn't letting on. _Smart girl._

She wondered if she could invent a reason for the blonde to come by her office today. Her walk took on a jaunty swish as she considered her options, dropping the pile of messages on her desk and settling into her power chair. She rolled herself forward to the table. She was certain Emma would race over if she told her that she needed ...

"Well, well, look who's showed up for work today."

Regina's eyes sprang wide open and she started suddenly, her hands flying out to grab her desk in shock. She quickly schooled her features but knew her moment of weakness had been noted with amusement.

She scowled and raked burning eyes over the intruder.

Slowly, like a slithering snake, Mr Gold emerged from the room's shadows behind the door and limped towards her. Taking all the time in the world.

"I was wondering if you'd left us, Madame Mayor," he said with an oily grin. "Not that you aren't due another little holiday."

"What do you want, Gold," Regina started and injected a weary sigh into her words, masking her discomfort. _Just what she didn't need. Gold in the mix. Why wasn't he still busy with that doting girl she'd dropped in his lap?  
_

He didn't respond at first, just lowered himself into a chair across from hers and examined her closely, like a scientist would a specimen.

"Well?" she asked impatiently. She indicated her pile of messages. "As you can see I'm really quite busy."

"I'm here, Madame Mayor," he began with a purr, "because I fear you might be reneging on our little deal."

Regina frowned, quickly working her way down a mental list of every sordid little arrangement she'd ever had with the maddening imp.

She shook her head. "What on earth are you talking about?" she asked. "And you well know I do not go back on my deals."

He eyed her thoughtfully and drummed his fingers against the bronze-tipped handle of the walking stick he was clutching between his knees. It was gleaming. Like his eyes.

"It's really very simple, Madame Mayor. You promised not to interfere in love taking its course in Storybrooke - not for any of the three pivotal lovestruck couples who might be ... significant."

Regina stared at him for a beat. "Significant because ..." She dared him to lay out his cards, and arched an eyebrow cockily.

"Because their love could mean an end to a certain arrangement that was put into place three decades ago." He compressed his lips. "As you well know." He appeared unimpressed at having to recap ancient history.

"I fail to see how I have broken your deal," Regina said in confusion. "The two princesses and the cricket and their respective loves have all been left in peace to ..." she flicked her hand airily, "fulfill their Hallmark card fantasies. I may have even helped some of them out. I pushed through the paperwork that allowed that stock boy of Kathryn's to become a gym teacher because it was apparently his fondest wish. And I may yet be maid of honour at the couple's nuptials." She waved her arm at the absurdity. "How is that being obstructionist? For God's sake, I even did the speeches at Hopper's wedding!"

"The cricket?" Gold leaned back and laughed. It was a short ugly bark, entirely too mocking. It set Regina's teeth on edge and she narrowed her eyes.

He leaned forward, his tone low so as not to be heard beyond two feet away, and hissed, "You really think the insignificant cricket and his fake-warrior farm boy could ever be pivotal in anything? Let alone ending the world's darkest curse?"

Regina blinked uncertainly. _Oh_. It was true Gold never had told her who the third couple was. She'd simply guessed. The timing had been right and there was little doubt the love the two men shared. But ... he had a point.

"Then who?" she demanded. "Gold - I have interfered in NO ONE'S romantic lives since we agreed I wouldn't. In case it has slipped your keen notice, attacks of true love are breaking out all over Storybrooke. It's almost obscene how saccharine this place is becoming. We have three florists now, instead of one. And a gift basket shop with noxiously cute stuffed bears that's doing a roaring trade."

Gold thrummed his cane with his fingers and looked at her impatiently.

"You HAVE most certainly been interfering in one couple's love life. And you have been at it for a rather long time."

He looked at her pointedly - daring her to work out his puzzle - and offered another slimy smile.

"Whose?'' Regina snapped, tired of the games. Tired of his creepy ways. Tired of all of it. She could be back in bed with Emma who had mumble-protested her departure this morning with a slide of exploring warm fingers and pleading eyes. It had been ridiculously hard to slide out of that softness and face her working day.

She cleared the image from her mind and focused, repeating: "Whose love life is so important, apparently so, so pivotal to the town - yet I cannot even remember interfering with it?"

Gold laughed in her face. His voice dropped another octave.

"Your own."

The wind was completely sucked out of her sails and Regina sagged against her chair. "What?!"

"Yours and Miss Swan's," he said slowly, as though addressing an especially dim child. "I have long suspected the reason the two princesses and their true-love beaus were doing little to break the curse was that it was never about them. But you, on the other hand - why the curse is all about you and the daughter of true love, is it not? That makes much more sense. I don't need a seer to tell me that. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Gold," she said weakly. "You don't even know this for sure..."

Something strange and dark flickered across his eyes for a moment before being replaced with his usual intractable confidence. "Perhaps," he conceded. He was so slippery. For all she knew he did know it for a fact.

"Let's say I suspect very strongly," he said. "But, you, my dear, have been holding out on me and your lovely Miss Swan."

Regina ground her teeth that anyone would dare comment on Emma or their love life. But for this, this flesh-crawling _imp_ to be the one to do so... She shook her head and growled at him. "I have no idea what you think you know but you're very wrong. You don't know what you're talking about."

He offered a teasing smile. "Don't I? Everyone saw how you two danced together at Grigor the Impaler's wedding to his cricket. Miss Swan clearly loves you, dearie. That was written all over her face. The way she looked at you. Trembled when you held her. And you, well, you weren't very subtle either, were you? How many times have you ever danced with anyone in this town? And to come out in such bold style! Well! It must be love. I thought smelling salts might be required for half the attendees. Especially your little boy who was particularly astute in understanding what was in front of his nose."

Regina's eyes flashed dangerously. "Leave Henry out of this.''

"I'm merely saying that there's no need to play coy anymore," he said. He was mocking her now. His voice was like a vicious stroke of fingernails down a chalkboard. "You love her, she loves you. There was even a little romantic getaway yesterday if Miss Lucas's thinly veiled clues at the diner this morning were anything to go by... and yet here we are. Here. Still HERE."

He thumped his walking stick loudly on the floor and looked around at the gleaming office and frowned. "Care to tell me why that is? Why you may have failed to express three tiny little words to her, as per our agreement, and thus keeping us in this magic-less suburban hellhole?"

"I never agreed to that," Regina spat back. "Never agreed to tell anyone I loved them."

"Oh but you did. You agreed not to 'impede love'," he reiterated almost boredly. "And you are most definitely impeding it. And we both know why."

Regina swallowed and looked away. He was right, of course, not that she'd ever admit it. The mayor knew that the very moment she looked into trusting green eyes and uttered those three crucial words, sealing them with a kiss, that would probably be it. Her world would end - in every sense.

She had never considered that her falling in love would be the key to the curse ending until it was too late and she'd actually fallen in love. And then she'd realised it in one awful moment and her heart had almost seized in horror.

She now knew why Gold had never before even so much as hinted at this being the truth. After all, if he'd made even the slightest suggestion that her being in love would unleash the curse breaking, would she have ever pursued romance with anyone?

No.

_Hell no._

And so here she was. In love, brutally, powerfully, passionately in love - and unable to ever say the words. She had known it before their night together - a night that was all the more bitter sweet for the knowledge.

And then had come the little pep talk with Archie that had rocked her to the core.

"People with low self esteems need plenty of positive reinforcement," Archie had begun in an almost scholarly fashion, wiping his glasses and perching them back on his nose. "Some counseling will likely help and I would be happy to assist - assuming Emma's willing. But I can only go so far when it's not me she loves and whose attention she craves. So by all means tell her she's beautiful and wonderful and so forth, but it's most important to tell her often that she is _loved_.

He had stopped and tilted his head. "It's everything."

She had gazed at him stupidly for a moment and then had vigorously shaken her head as she muttered "impossible''.

His expression evolved rapidly through surprise, disappointment, then to a frown.

"Why would you deny Emma this?" he'd asked in genuine dismay. "Don't you trust that she loves you?"

"I believe she does."

"Do you doubt your own feelings?"

She shook her head.

"Then why - especially if it can't possibly hurt? It could help her so much. To love and be loved back by another person who willingly chooses to do so is all anyone truly wants in life."

She had leaped to her feet in agitation and stalked away then, needing the distance, hating herself. Hating him. Hating her back being against the wall.

Her options were awful. Help Emma find her own self worth, affirm their love, and in so doing tear down everything she'd built in their new world. Probably getting herself killed in the process. Watch Emma and Henry look at her with hatred and disgust. They might even light the pyre themselves. She hoped not. But maybe.

She swallowed.

Don't help her, and watch Emma fade away, believing herself to be unloved. Unworthy. Valueless. Nothing. But they'd all be alive. Storybrooke would live. And Regina wouldn't ever have to be _Her_ again.

_So then... it was an obvious choice.  
_

"I just can't." She'd whispered her decision aloud to herself, firmly, but knew as she turned and saw from Hopper's look that he'd heard it, too.

His sadness settled over her like a shroud and he stared at her, out of words. She stared back.

They hadn't spoken for the rest of their time together and were sitting there still and silent when Emma and Matt returned.

She hadn't felt right for hours afterwards. She still didn't.

* * *

Gold cleared his throat. "So - our deal. You will tell her. End this."

"Or what?" Regina demanded. "And a better question is _why_. You never did tell me why you want the curse over so much. Do you miss glittery skin and outlandish outfits so much? Everyone falling at your feet whimpering 'Oh no, The Dark One, run, hide, tremble!'."

He slammed his walking stick sharply on the table and swiped her papers to the floor. His mask had dropped and she could see he was angry now. She couldn't recall seeing him this enraged ever before. She felt a shiver skitter up her spine.

"Tell Swan or I will." He articulated the words precisely, ignoring her other question. "And if _I_ do it, I won't be so sweet and romantic about it. Then she'll come running to you demanding to know exactly what I meant and you'll have to admit it all anyway. Or else say it's just a silly lie and watch her face as it crumples while you tell her you never loved her, you couldn't, and you never will.

"Then you'll watch the light go out in her eyes as she realises she is yet again unlovable and unwanted. You know all about that, don't you, my dear? Being unlovable? And then, you'll have a front-row seat to seeing her vitality dim for however long she decides to cling to you, how many weeks or months, hoping, pleading, praying desperately to change your mind or your heart."

He gave a thin cold smile as his voice dropped dangerously low, barely above a whisper.

"And the beautiful irony, dearie, given what happened to your darling Daniel, is you may as well have crushed her precious heart in your hand yourself. While you just stood by and _watched_."

Regina glared at him furiously. "You wouldn't dare tell her!'' she hissed.

"Oh I'd dare." He leaned even closer now. She could smell him. Spice and dark moss. She could feel his warmth. It was odd, he seemed so lizard-like, but he gave off a powerful fiery heat. "But I am also merciful. I understand your dear baird is having his birthday this weekend. Our children are so important, aren't they? So precious. They are our future after all."

He smirked.

"So I'll give you till the end of young Henry's delightful day. And then, at a time, a day, an opportunity of my choosing after that, I will act. I will hold your feet to the fire. I trust you can stand the heat?"

Another smile, even oilier than his first. He rose.

"Good day, Madame Mayor."

He slowly made his way out of the room, his limp vastly improved now.

She slumped back in her chair.

She shut her eyes. _Oh my God._


	53. I DARE

Regina Mills liked to win. She had worked hard - and suffered greatly - to get a curse that gave her a second chance. She had also worked hard to get back Emma after she realised life without her was not a life she wanted. Losing was not something she tolerated - not for long at least.

She narrowed her eyes as she thought about the reason she was facing potential defeat now. A man whose Machiavellian schemes had ultimately wrought destruction throughout her life, always under the initial guise of "helping" her. Always making everything seem like her idea.

Until now.

Now he had simply backed her into a corner with threats like a common thug. To say it was out of character was the understatement of the decade. She sipped her latte at her favorite booth in Granny's Diner and considered that. He had been almost desperate in his insistence she "not impede love", even though he had tap-danced around her as he usually did with veiled insults and typical showmanship. But at the core of their conversation had been a desperate hunger, a terrible haste that he could not entirely disguise as much as he tried.

Rumpelstiltskin wanted the curse over, and he wanted it over  _now_.

She lowered her cup to the table. What had changed? Why the almighty rush? He had not been terribly forthcoming as per usual.

Well, the man might not be so keen to share, but she knew someone who might. She finished her coffee and left a generous tip, hiding her amusement at the shock on Ruby Lucas's face as she left the diner. It was always fun to keep them on their toes. Just when they thought they knew her. And besides, Emma liked her for some unfathomable reason.

The library was doing a fairly brisk trade when the mayor pulled open its imposing doors. She could see at the rear of the cavernous space an elegantly arranged bank of computers she'd bought for the new reading and browsing area. Residents were certainly availing themselves of the new features.

It had been one of her more inspired ideas. Officially, she told herself, it was to keep the librarian happy. Happy librarian, happy Gold, no menacing imps underfoot causing trouble. And that theory had worked well - until now.

Occasionally, though, she would allow herself to admit she'd actually done it for a very different reason. It had been a barely completed thought, a passing whimsy, that she'd voiced over breakfast one day. One minute she'd been handing Henry his cereal bowl, the next, his entire face had glowed, eyes shining, as though she had come up with something incredible; beyond remarkable. Something he clearly did not think her remotely capable of.

Her lips pressed together.  _Well, Evil Queens generally don't install library reading rooms, now do they?_  And so she'd gone ahead with it. That one act of generosity seemed to lead to other civic-minded expansions, and before she knew it the entire face of Storybrooke was changing, with parks and plays and puppet shows.

 _Puppet shows, for God's sake._  She shook her head at the memory. Henry had virtually vibrated with delight when she'd run that one by him. But by then she knew she wasn't even doing it to see that look on his small face anymore. She was doing it because it just felt ... good.

She hastily shoved that confronting thought away with distaste, not ready to dissect that just yet.

She'd noticed the changes in her constituents, too. Now that had been entirely unexpected. Subtle nods and small smiles, comments and enthusiasm about the changes. Occasional thanks as she passed them on the street.

It had made her ridiculously uncomfortable for a long time. She'd had years of practice in steeling herself against muttered barbs and anonymous slights, so to be stopped to be thanked? It was like enduring a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Her heart would almost start in alarm at such unwanted, unexpected pleasantries.

Hopper had laughed his ridiculous head off at her when she'd complained about her grateful-constituent stress with a frown.

She'd glowered at him in indignation, seriously peeved she seemed to have lost her ability to inspire fear in the annoying bug at least. In response he'd just suppressed his laughter - more or less - but didn't look even remotely cowed.

She sighed. Times were certainly changing.

Her mother had always said "Make them fear you." It had been the austere, cold woman's only advice on leadership and Regina had never questioned it, particularly when her suddenly acquired minions seemed so fiercely disinclined to love their new queen - and blatantly mourned their old one. Right in front of her.

But now ... now some of them actually seemed to ...  _like_  her.

She frowned.  _When the hell had that happened?_

The smell of vanilla danced around her nostrils as Regina moved into the old building. The scent was a curious biochemical side effect of having a large receptical of decaying, ancient books gradually breaking down. Her eyes adjusted to the lowered light from desk lamps and she glanced around. Heads bent over desks, reading, paid her no attention. Regina slowly walked the aisles, impressed in spite of herself at the work the young overseer had done.

"Mayor Mills," came a pleasant voice behind her.  _Ah, speak of the devil._  "What a pleasant surprise."

 _Belle_. Regina arched an eyebrow as she hunted for sarcasm in the woman's greeting. Finding none, she offered her most generous smile.

"Good morning, my dear. Are you well?"

Regina leaned forward, plastered her most fascinated look on her face and waited with interest.

"Why yes, yes, thank you. Mr Gold and, um, everyone have all been looking after me very well."

"You call him Mr Gold?" Regina asked curiously, unable to help herself. "I thought you and he were..."

She faded out, realising that, like asking Archie Hopper about his honeymoon, certain things were definitely of absolutely no interest to her brain. Especially the part of it that enjoyed forming mental pictures.

The young woman smiled and blushed prettily. "He seems to like it when I do. I suspect he enjoys the respect it affords him, so I indulge him. It's a simple thing I can do to make him happy." She waved her hand around the room. "So have you come to see the effect of your office's kind donation? The new area? I could give you the tour."

"By all means, dear."

It was a decidedly short tour. The city hall's resources were well spent, though, and Regina could see Belle had spent the funds she'd provided well.

They wound up towards the rear of the room in the deathly quiet shelves between "Historic Conquests" and "Khan, Genghis". It seemed fitting as the mayor eyed with interest the tomes on domination, battlefield tactics and victory, as she edged closer to the key to fighting her enemy.

For hours Regina had been trying to fathom what had changed in Gold's world to make him suddenly push her to bring the curse to an end. She finally had realised on her walk over that the skilled gatherer of trinkets, artefacts and enchanted amulets may have acquired a new one. Something special that changed the game.

She could, of course, be completely wrong - but it never hurt to ask. In a round about way of course...

"It's so efficient in here," Regina began admiringly. "You have done a wonderful job organising it all - putting order to the chaos."

Wide young eyes brightened. "Thank you, Madame Mayor, it's so kind of you to say."

"Please, dear, you must call me Regina."

"Thank you, Regina."

"I was wondering if Mr Gold ever asked you to use your skills to sort out the chaos in his shop?" She smiled gently to take any sting of criticism out. "After all, your talents are obvious."

"He doesn't like me to mess up his stuff too much, but I think he has his own order to it," Belle laughed. "Everything in its place."

"Oh certainly," Regina nodded earnestly and leaned even closer. "I must say I'm like that in my own office. It does mean I spend a great deal of time trying to work out where to put anything new, though."

"Yes!'' Belle grinned and nodded. "He's having a ridiculous time with his globe at the moment. He keeps moving it all over the place. I think he just hates having it out of his sight. Last night I asked if he wanted to sleep with it. He said he was 'almost tempted'."

Regina smiled once more, her eyes fluttering half closed as she savoured her discovery. "Well that is adorable. But don't tell him I said that - I'm not sure who would be more embarrassed: him or me."

"Oh no, I won't," Belle agreed readily. There was a pause. "Is there anything else I can show you? Would you like a library card?"

"No dear, that's alright. I have everything I need."

* * *

The bell clanged when Regina opened the door to Mr Gold's eclectic emporium and she paused to stare up at the infernal device. She was fairly certain she had smashed the thing the last time she'd been in here.

The man in question emerged from the back room, surprise evident at who had come calling.

"Why, Madame Mayor, I didn't expect to see you so soon after our pleasant chat yesterday."

Regina regarded him placidly and considered stringing out his almost painful curiosity. But she finally relented.

"I thought we might make another arrangement, dear," she said. "One final deal between us. If you're agreeable of course," she watched as even more surprise flitted across his eyes before he blinked it away.

"Really? I thought you would be off declaring undying love to the lucky Miss Swan," he taunted. At her warning glare, he pressed on, "But I am a businessman, and always open to a new deal or two." He offered his most charming, smarmy smile.

Regina took a piece of paper out of her pocket and pushed it across the glass-topped counter towards him. "I know that you have recently made a withdrawal from my vault. This was among my mother's possessions which I inherited. Imagine my surprise at noticing, while paying respects to my father this morning, that it was missing."

He lifted the paper to his eyes and she watched as they darted across the sketch of a globe.

"Before you bother to deny it," Regina added, "it may be worth knowing I'm well aware of what it does and how it works. Not to mention how to get the best out of it for an absolutely accurate triangulation."

Gold's face now had an expression she had never witnessed before. Consternation.

"Best out of it?" he muttered quietly.

To anyone else it would have sounded like a statement. Regina knew better. It was a question.

"The last person to use it without doing a calibration wound up 15,000 miles from where they actually needed to be,'' she stated and gave him a knowing smirk. "I imagine that would have been fairly ... frustrating. I also imagine no one would want to have that problem in the future, either."

She held her breath.

Gold placed the paper back on the desk and eyed her.

"What do you want?"

Regina smiled widely now and slid her hand back into her pocket bringing out a typed list. "My requirements. Agree to meet them all, to the letter, and I will tell you everything I know about Mother's valuable globe."

The businessman's eyes slid slowly down the list, only a flare of the nostrils betraying his thoughts. He froze on the last item.

"Really, Madame Mayor?"

She pursed her lips. "We both get what we want. Or neither, I suppose. But it's fairer this way."

"Time is of the essence for me," he objected.

"You have waited three decades, Gold, for whoever it is you wish to track down. It's not like the globe won't simply relocate your target if it moves, whenever it is you decide to start your quest."

Gold looked at her thoughtfully. "What makes you think I am after any target? On a quest at all?''

"Why else acquire my globe?" Regina rolled her eyes at such a ridiculous question. "I am curious though, dear, as to what made you decide to become a grave robber right  _now_?"

His eyes crinkled. "The benefit of having a woman at your side who loves to read and research so much is she sometimes turns up fascinating old books about curios and oddities, and their supposedly mythical properties. Imagine my surprise at being gifted such a book not two days ago and realising I recognised one detailed artefact. I had last seen it in a time long past while paying my respects to your dear mother. An item that, when I first saw it, I had believed was a mere silly trinket."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "Time spent with my mother?" She hissed in a breath. As always, it made her uneasy when he spoke of knowing her. She always felt there was far more to their involvement than he had ever revealed. Although her mother had never once mentioned him to her.

"I am curious, dearie, as to how your mother came by her globe?" Gold continued as if Regina had not interrupted. "It's not an easy object to stumble upon if its historical origins are to be believed."

"Now that would be telling," Regina said with a slow smirk. "Deal first, details later."

"I could just demand," he retorted, leaning forward into her space. "I could just say 'please', and all deals are off the table and my bidding would be instantly done."

Silence hung before them and Regina sighed inwardly, reluctant to play this particular card. She'd found herself actually hoping he wouldn't push her into it. Such tawdry tactics no longer held the satisfaction they might once have done. But her choices were limited now. She was committed.

"The hard thing about being Mayor," Regina began in a feigned, painful tone, "is not being able to look after all my constituents. Some are more vulnerable than others. It makes me wish I had more resources to keep everyone safe. But it simply isn't always possible. It's my greatest regret." She looked at him sadly and shook her head. "You understand."

"You're threatening my Belle?'' His outraged eyes flashed at her. He lifted his walking stick above the table and waved it at her as he growled: "I could kill you where you stand."

"Go right ahead, dear," Regina said airily. "But don't expect this curse to ever end if I'm dead." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Corpses cannot whisper declarations of love."

"I will not have a hair on her head harmed!" he snarled.

"I can see that," she nodded agreeably. "Very ... chivalrous of you, dear. And I have several contingency plans in place should you try to use 'please' to force me into staying my hand personally," she lied smoothly.

He looked at her, about to open his mouth. And, to her enormous relief, hesitated.

"So I expect you'll be accepting my deal," Regina pushed forward before he gave it too much considered thought. "My terms aren't particularly odious, I'm sure you'll agree. Especially the first ten items - given you won't care one whit about your present situation should the curse suddenly lift."

Gold stared down at the list again and drew his eyes back to Regina. He ground his teeth together.

"So this list fulfilled for everything you know about the globe?" he queried.

"Yes." She offered him a pen, pointing to the dotted line at the bottom of the page. "And I won't reveal anything of the top ten items to anyone, unless the curse breaks. No one will know." She looked at him pointedly to see that he understood. "Your ... status will be safe."

His lips twisted into a snarl but he nodded. He took the contract, fingertipping it as though it was too hot to touch, before signing with his trademark flourish.

"Don't forget the duplicate, dear,'' Regina stated and produced a copy. She signed her own name on both and watched as he read the second to check it was the same, then signed once more. She slid his copy over to him to keep.

They regarded each other for a moment.

"Well?" he asked. "Do tell me everything, dearie. No holding back."

She slid another piece of paper over. It had one short paragraph typed on it.

His eyes flashed in disbelief as he read it. "This says nothing at all about how to calibrate the globe."

Regina smirked. "That's because the globe doesn't need calibrating to operate."

"What? You said the last person to use it without calibrating it ended up 15,000 miles off course."

"And he did. But that's because the man got hopelessly lost. Not because he didn't calibrate it."

Gold's brow furrowed and he read on. "All this offers is a brief history of the device. Cora got it from a realm jumper?"

"Yes. I'm not certain which one. She wasn't forthcoming when she chose not to be. It may have even been Jefferson's but I never bothered to ask. That..." she indicated the paper with a pointed finger, "Is literally everything I know about it. Without a lie or omission."

Gold slapped it down to the counter and eyed her through narrowing slits. "You dare trick me? Me!''

The indignation and incredulity in his voice would have been hilarious if it didn't also sound so very menacing.

"I dare," she replied in a low dangerous tone, unconsciously mirroring his triumphant words of a day ago. "Not a pleasant sensation is it?" she added softly, and the edges of her mouth slowly curled up.

She then picked up her copy of the signed deal and stalked towards the door, giving an arrogant sway to her hips.

"Mr Gold," she purred in farewell, amusement lacing her throaty voice before she opened the door and stepped out into the street. The bell jangled dully behind her.

Oh yes, Regina Mills liked to win.

 


	54. PIECE BY PIECE

Emma woke for the second time that day, and just like the first, mourned the fact Regina's side of her bed was cold and empty. The first time at least she'd had the pleasure, through half-lidded eyes, of watching The Transformation.

From naked rumpled lover to, one thigh-high at a time, a sharp, cool, unapproachable, seriously sexy mayor. Although any of her aloof attitude was now severely undercut by the fact Emma now knew intimately the colour and composition of the lacy red panties and matching bra the Mayor of Storybrooke had slipped on this morning. It had made her itch to dance her fingertips up underneath that slate grey power skirt and avail herself of the woman beneath the tight cotton armour.

Regina had turned and caught her staring, her lips pressing together, even as her brown eyes danced and taunted her. The brunette let her suffer for a moment of silence before saying just one word in her ear.

"Later," she murmured as Emma pleaded her disappointment silently through large green eyes. Eyes that soon fluttered closed.

She was asleep before she heard the front door open and shut downstairs.

Emma winced as she sat up this time, finding sore muscles had been used in ways she hadn't conceived possible. Their spirited furtive fumblings throughout the night had taken a toll on her energy levels and Emma was mystified as to how Regina could even contemplate going into work - let alone achieving the feat at such an early time.

As she hunted for her bra and panties (under the bed; wardrobe doorknob - in that order), she considered their previous night's activities. It was not exactly the most elegant of lovemaking, as they were both strictly adhering to their agreed upon ground rules as to what would not be a good idea yet. But they had become incredibly adept at lovingly touching, stroking, wandering, exploring, nibbling and sliding tongues up and down smooth expanses of skin - for hours.

The mayor's stamina had been an eye-opener for Emma who had been begging for sleep after their third go-around, only to be effectively silenced by the most delicious kiss she had ever experienced. "Really, dear?" was husked in her ear as a haughty challenge. "Are you quite sure?"

_Well shit._  Emma never uttered one word of protest after that and allowed the brunette's indecently skilled tongue to do pretty much whatever she damn well pleased.

She glanced at the clock and then froze.  _Eleven? How the hell had that happened?_  She flung back the bedding and padded into Regina's en suite, blasting the water to hot as she washed her hair and let the night's searingly pleasurable memories roll over her.  _God, her life was now officially upside-down._  She doubted she'd ever be the same again. There was no way she was the same woman who had rolled into Storybrooke less than a week ago.

_Which reminded her..._

* * *

Emma closed her phone with a soft click and shook her head. Her secretary Mandy had spent the first ten minutes telling her she knew,  _absolutely knew_ , that the moment Emma had taken off with Regina, she wouldn't be coming back. She sounded both smug and sad to be conclusively proved right.

The blonde leaned against the park bench near Granny's and considered the next part of the conversation. Thirty-seven messages in her absence - including one from her former boss, Bob, who had come sniffing around in person to see her. Ostensibly it was to catch up for a beer, and see how she was. Reading between the lines though, he hated his new job at Knave Investigations ( _big surprise there, given they were all assholes_ ) and was probably desperate to jump ship to her firm. They'd been a good team, after all.

The only other detailed message Mandy had given her was more in the line of gossip. The woman had begun with a breathy, wheezy influx of air that sounded like she was about have an asthma attack, and told her that apparently a certain sexy mayor had employed the services of a certain shapely lawyer Emma had dated once. Shania had, it seemed, been crowing in delight that a mayor,  _an actual mayor_ , had hired her for something.

Mandy had said that, later, thanks to a couple of wines over lunch with Shania, she had coerced the name out of her - Regina Mills - but beyond that, the work she'd been contracted for had not been disclosed.

_Nor should it be, for professional reasons_ , Emma mused.  _At least Shania wasn't entirely stupid._  Still, Emma had stared, baffled, as that tidbit had been imparted and could think of little else to say.

"OK, Mandy, uh, thanks for the dirt."

"Oh and Shania has no idea of your connection with the mayor at all. Oh by the way, gotta pen? Here's Bob's number. He said to call him soon."

She'd then rung off with a chirpy "Catchya, boss".

Emma glanced at the number she'd jotted down. Mandy hadn't been opposed to acquiring a new freelance boss of sorts, and the eccentric secretary had even taken a shine to Bob during their brief meeting. Emma glanced at the number again and made the call.

Bob was delighted her hear from her, surprisingly so given she had shot through on him to take Henry home and had never returned. She did text him once, an apologetic "Sorry, I have to quit", but that was it.

So she made him her offer. Take over her bounty jobs if/when/until she moved back to Boston. And if she never did, they'd talk turkey in another 12 months about him taking her business over completely.

He'd almost leaped down the phone in glee.

"Shit, sure thing kiddo, sure thing. I'll be round there tomorrow. Let me just tell Simon Knave where to shove it. Shit, this is fuckin' great. Knave is a total ass."

She'd held the phone away from her ear for a bit until he'd gotten his out-of-character enthusing out of his system.

"Right," she said neutrally, cutting him off after about five minutes of excited ranting. "Uh, sounds good. I'll get Mandy to set it all up."

He offered a cheeky, parting proposal that "Swan Bounty Hunting" might have a better ring if it was instead called "Bob's Bounty Hunting". She laughed and suggested good-naturedly that the old bastard remember exactly who his boss was now.

She texted Mandy back to confirm she could expect Bob tomorrow.

Done, she leaned back against the bench and did a spot of navel gazing. How did she feel?  _Free_. How odd. She had no job, not here, not yet, and nothing had really been promised on that score, although plenty of assumptions had been made.

But here, back in Storybrooke, she felt ... wanted. Lighter. Connected. Like half her life hadn't been detached and floated out into deep space, while she was stuck inside an air-tight capsule watching it drift about from afar. She found herself at peace.

She liked that.

_Soooo, next stop._  She thought for a moment. Lunch. She'd bring Regina lunch and see if she couldn't lure her out of the building for an impromptu picnic.

She grinned at the thought of it.

* * *

Loreena Greene, personal assistant and secretary to Mayor Regina Mills, rolled her wheelchair to the filing cabinet to the left of her desk and began to file. She paused to tuck a curl of jet black hair back into its tight, orderly bun and then resumed work efficiently. Within moments she felt herself being watched, the hairs on her neck rising, and without turning knew exactly who it was.

The footsteps hadn't clacked along the marble floor like her boss's high heels. Nor did they thunder like those of the male councilors. Nor sweep then tap like Mr Gold's. She heard the softest squeak of leather boots, quiet but sure-footed, and knew without a doubt she'd find the town's former sheriff leaning against the door if she turned.

_Sure enough._

"Hey," Emma Swan said as Loreena looked up into the face of the woman all of Storybrooke was talking about. She wondered if the blonde was even aware of that fact.

She'd bet no.

"Miss Swan," she replied professionally. "How may I assist you?"

"She in?" Emma asked and jerked a thumb towards Mayor Mills's office.

Loreena lifted an eyebrow at the shorthand talk, waiting for a reason to be offered. Miss Swan always stuttered out at least one reason, sometimes several, as though dating the mayor was not sufficient grounds for entry. Of course, the blonde did seem unaware all of Storybrooke knew Regina Mills's changed relationship status.

A brown paper bag lifted in the blonde's hand and was waggled under Loreena's nose as a wide grin split Emma's face. "I, uh, brought her lunch."

From the oily smear slowly increasing at the bottom of the bag, Loreena highly doubted that. Still, far be it for her to suggest the blonde might try cutting down on fries and grease with her order if she actually expected the mayor to partake in any of it.

"Mayor Mills was in earlier but left an hour ago," she responded distantly.

As Emma opened her mouth, eyes full of queries, Loreena interrupted. "No, I do not know where she went nor when she will be back."

She couldn't quite school her downward tug of her lips as she imparted this information. "She doesn't always notify me of her plans."

Emma paused and scrutinised her expression, and for just a moment Loreena felt uncomfortably stripped naked. She could well understand how the slouching sheriff had also once doubled as an effective bounty hunter. It seemed her keen eyes missed few details.

"Well that sucks," Emma said kindly. "Um, Loreena, right?"

"Yes, Miss Swan."

"Hey, call me Emma."

Loreena sighed inwardly. She really didn't want to become friends with the other woman any time soon. It was bad enough having to deal with the mayor's mercurial moods and demands - although to be fair both had declined significantly in the past few months. Romantic entanglements apparently brought out the human side of the normally testy woman. But Loreena, a career secretary, knew the score: Become friends with your boss's partner, and soon you're expected to be a pseudo secretary for  _them_ , as well. Make birthday present suggestions, buy their flowers, or make secret hot-date reservations. You then learn all about your boss's saccharine side, or worse, what they're like when they're wanting/planning/hoping to engage in sexual congress with said partner.

Loreena Greene shuddered. No, she did not plan on getting to know Miss Swan that well at all if that's what lay ahead.

"I prefer 'Miss Swan', if you have no objection," she finally replied. She rolled her wheelchair back to the desk and waited to see if that was all.

The other woman visibly sagged against the door frame, seemingly out of options. Her oily bag of fried grease had now begun to drip on the floor.

Loreena sighed and reached for the phone to call in the cleaners. She wondered at her boss's taste in partners. Emma Swan was, in her own shambolic way, as erratic and illogical a romance choice as the mayor was a frightening, domineering one. She briefly considered wondering what they possibly had in common before realising she didn't care enough to pursue this line of thought.

Her eyes dropped to her phone. She listened to the masculine voice with one ear, and heard Emma's awkward shuffle from foot to foot with the other.

"Mayor's office - yes, we need a clean up outside the doors to her office."

She listened some more.

"Some form of orange oil from a greasy food product," her lip curled as she stared at the sodden takeout bag. "Yes. Thank you."

Her eyes slid back up to Emma who stared at her, cheeks flaming as her eyes widened. "Shit, sorry! Why didn'tcha say?"

She dropped to her knees, pulling a tissue out of her pocket, smearing the oil drops across the pristine marble. She put the bag beside her and rubbed ferociously. Loreena winced, noting that where the bag was sitting was creating a new oily grease pool.

"Leave it," she suggested firmly. "Frank's on his way."

Emma stood. "OK, I'll um..." she jerked her thumb back towards the exit.

Loreena gave her a brief smile. "Excellent idea," she said.

She watched her leave, snatching up the paper bag, and wondered if Regina Mills realised how close she'd come to an artery clogging lunch, with a side of a heart attack.

* * *

"I don't think your secretary likes me," Emma said as she shared her food on the park bench with a curiously subdued Regina. The mayor hadn't said much about where she'd been all morning, but she'd readily agreed to meet up for lunch when she'd texted. And her eyes seemed to be shining for some reason.

"Loreena doesn't like anyone," Regina scoffed with a flash of white teeth as she bit into the roast beef and salad sandwich Emma had acquired for her. It was probably half cold by now, Emma winced.

"She doesn't like me either," Regina continued conversationally. "Don't take it to heart."

"I thought secretaries were s'posed to at least  _pretend_  to like their bosses," Emma grinned. "I mean isn't that, like, a rule or something?"

"Your secretary might like you, dear, but mine just does her work and whatever else she does or thinks is of no interest to me whatsoever. For all I know or care she runs an underground railway to free imprisoned polar bears in her spare time."

"It doesn't bug you then? Not being liked?"

Regina paused mid-chew. "Why would it? I'm used to being disliked. It comes with being a politician. You cannot please all the people all the time and Miss Greene and her attitude is hardly special in that regard."

Emma looked softly at the brunette. "That might be true but I think a whole lot more people like you now than ever did the last time I was in town. A  _lot_  more. I can feel The Great Thaw is on."

Regina's mouth quirked for a moment and Emma realised she agreed with her even if she'd never admit it.

"Well be that as it may, dear - and there's no accounting for fickle tastes of who is 'in vogue' this week - but my secretary's undisguised disdain for me has never impacted her job and that is what matters. Besides - if you must know, it's fairly mutual."

Emma chewed some more and suppressed a laugh at the way her exacting lover viewed the world. She then dipped her nearly cold, drooping fries in a small plastic tub of ketchup. "Speaking of secretaries, Mandy tells me you've hired Shania."

"Who?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "The 'country music singing lawyer'," she said. "Although she really doesn't sing country despite your constant claims to the contrary."

"If you say so," Regina said smoothly, eyes dancing. "I just needed some business sorted out and didn't want it known to all of Storybrooke five minutes later. It turns out your pretty country-singing cad is the only lawyer I know outside of this town. Although 'know' is probably far too strong a word. Anyway I made a few enquiries and her credentials checked out, so I forwarded her my requirements."

"So what kind of work is it?"

Regina stopped eating. "Mayoral business," she said shortly. "Of absolutely no interest to snooping bounty hunters or beautiful girlfriends."

"Point taken," Emma grinned. "So ... ah..."

Regina's eyes narrowed warningly, daring her to press the issue.

"...You really think I'm beautiful?"

The mayor laughed and her tension seemed to ebb away. "Definitely. You're also thoroughly blind if you can't see it yourself."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Regina bound up her sandwich wrappers in a fist.

"About Saturday ..." she began.

"Henry's birthday, yeah." Emma leaned forward curiously. Regina's knuckles were turning white where she held the crumpled paper.

"I have contacted Miss Blanchard and suggested she might like to have you stay over at her place that night."

"What? Why? Sick of me already?" The hurt in Emma's eyes must have been radiating because the mayor's hand immediately dropped the paper and clasped the blonde's softly.

"Never. But I have a birthday present for him - a very special one - and it must be done in privacy. Do you understand?"

"No," Emma said quietly. But as she saw the earnestness in the brunette's face she relented, linking fingers through hers. "No,'' she repeated, "But I see this is important to you."

"It is. Our boy is turning 12. He is on his way to being a man and I'd like to spend some quiet, quality time with just him and me."

Emma nodded. "OK. But if I have to listen to Mary Margaret and David doing the deed all night, I am holding you responsible for my mental scarring. God, they're like rabbits."

"That won't happen," Regina said and gave her a knowing smile. "I may have suggested to the eternally boring Mr Nolan he'd best be elsewhere on Saturday night, too."

"You didn't!" Emma gaped.

"I most certainly did. He cannot monopolise his fiancee's attention all the time - it's not healthy. Besides, I felt sure you would be more comfortable without him there. Miss Blanchard agreed. I suspect she wants some respite from his interminable snoring and ridiculously bland personality."

"Regina!" Emma slapped her arm playfully. "Stop making up shit!"

"Fine. Actually she agreed because she misses you and would love to spend more time with you. And trust me, I know the feeling, so it was easy to sympathise. Anyway, so the idea would be for you two to go home from the ranch together after the party and I'll take Henry with me."

"OK."

Regina nodded firmly. "So, now that's sorted, how do you feel about coming back to my place?"

"Right now? It's not even two."

"Mmm," Regina purred and leaned closer. "Henry's still at school, we have a few hours. I'd like to make the most of it since you seemed far too tired this morning to continue where we left off."

"God woman, you're insatiable," Emma murmured, looking at her in awe. "I mean  _how_... never mind. What about work? Isn't Storybrooke going to miss its mayor if she disappears for some afternoon nookie?"

The expression on Regina's face shifted and she glanced away. "Does it really matter even if it does miss me?" she asked quietly. " _You're_  what really matters. You and Henry. I'm having a ... priority re-evaluation."

Emma stared in astonishment. "Waitaminute - didn't you once give me a lecture on how Storybrooke's your town and diss it at my own peril and all that jazz? You sound like you don't even care now."

Regina said nothing for a moment and shook her head minutely. "That's not it. So are you turning me down?" she asked, her voice so low Emma had to strain to catch it.

The blonde peered at the intense brown eyes watching her. She was bemused, but shrugged. "Hell no. Lead on, Madame Mayor. I'm all yours."

Regina's smile was instant and powerful enough to rival a sun flare. "Glad to hear it, dear."


	55. I WILL

 

"So,'' Mary Margaret began, eyeing her former roommate with a cheeky grin. "Don't take this the wrong way, but any idea why you're here?"

Emma who had been bent over double, patting a layer off dust off her jeans' legs from a day of horse riding, partying and roping antics, paused and scrunched her brow.

"I seriously have no idea," she admitted with a huff and went back to slapping vigorously at her clothing. "Regina said something about wanting one-on-one time with Henry. But it's good, right? Us catching up? Been a while."

The teacher nodded easily. Her incredulous eyes tracked the slapping hands and small clouds of dust. "What HAVE you been doing, Em? I mean I saw you hit the dirt - repeatedly - in the lassoing contest, but you look like you've tracked in half of Matt's property with you!"

Mary Margaret laughed at her own joke. "Why don't you grab a shower first and I'll put on dinner."

"Yeah," Emma grunted, straightening up. "I'm a mess. I think all I was good for today was giving the kids a laugh."

Mary Margaret bit back a smirk. Seeing the sheriff flailing about at the roping challenges, and on occasions, getting herself so caught up in the ropes she'd ended up biting dirt in comic fashion was definitely the highlight of the party.

"Not just the kids enjoyed that," Mary Margaret said helpfully. "I noticed a certain eagle-eyed mayor who actually leaned over the railing for a better look. She had a  _most_  interested expression on her face. And I know she wasn't trying to check out Archie's butt."

"Gah!" Emma groaned in embarrassment and bent over, shouldering her overnight bag with an almighty  _wumpf_. "You're all impossible. No respect."

She stalked away but the teacher had just enough of a glimpse of twinkling green eyes to know no harm was done.

The petite woman stood and headed for the kitchen, hearing the shower turn on, and opened her fridge door.

After all that party food, something light was in order. Something like ... she reached for the salad ingredients and dug around for some chicken breasts.

It was nice having Emma back, she mused, although the other woman wasn't exactly the same one who'd lived with her a year and a half ago. Or anything like the woman she'd first met in Storybrooke.

That younger woman had been closed off and self sufficient to the point she needed no one in her life. Emma had initially not wanted Henry, had only reluctantly moved in with her, and it had taken months to crack through her shell to find the warm, gentle heart that lay beneath.

The woman in her shower right now was another conundrum altogether, Mary Margaret thought, as she efficiently chopped tomatoes and washed lettuce.

Not exactly closed off anymore. Her heart was far more on her sleeve than before, but now, so too was her damage. She was quicker to laugh, quicker to irritation and sadness. The brunette paused chopping. She was not the woman she'd known before at all. And yet in a way she was more than who she had been. It was insanely intricate and very confusing.

They'd yet to get into all that had transpired since Emma had gone back to Boston, but one thing she could tell just by looking was that Emma Swan was still in love with Regina Mills. And that was one constant that didn't seem to be changing any time soon.

Emma emerged fifteen minutes later, hair slightly damp, having donned forest green yoga pants and a white tank top. She wore thick socks. She slid onto a bar stool and watched as Mary Margaret slid the chicken into a pan to sear it.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"That depends. Has your cooking improved since you've been gone?"

"Not so much. No."

"Right." Mary Margaret turned and gave her smile. "Then no. All good."

Emma pulled a face.

"So," the brunette continued, "You and Regina have patched things up then? From what I've gathered you're ..."

She faded out at Emma's sharp look.

"Hell, does everyone know?"

"Pretty much, yes." Mary Margaret's lips twitched and she suppressed a smile when Emma looked appalled.

"Everyone's figured out where you're staying," she continued, as if checking off a list. "And they know Regina went to get you from Boston. And that she's been so very happy these past few days. And then there was THAT dance. I mean  _really_  Emma?!  _That dance!_  Oh and Ruby may have let slip to a few people, who told a few other people, that you both went camping together. So yes. Everyone. Pretty much."

Emma groaned and buried her head into her hands.

"And this would be a problem why?" the teacher asked, glancing up from her sizzling pan.

"It's... I... I'm a private person. So's Regina. We don't... " Emma paused as the pixie-faced woman's eyebrows knotted in confusion.

"I don't know," Emma finally sighed and threw her hands up. "I just liked having her all to myself for a bit. I don't want to share this. Us."

"Well she  _is_  the mayor - she's 'everyone's' already whether you like it or not."

That seemed to stump the blonde for a moment.

"Never thought of it that way, she said hesitantly. She shook her head hard, as if unwilling to believe it. "But everyone's so indifferent to her. Or they were when  _I_  lived here anyway," she added slowly, perplexed. "At least those who didn't outright hate her. Now you're saying ... I mean I've seen that they're thawing a little but ... actually, what are you saying? Come to think of it, why  _did_  everyone give her such a shitty time in the first place? I never once asked."

Mary Margaret laughed out loud as she took in Emma's complete confusion. She tsk tsked a finger in front of her. "How soon they forget. You were singing the chorus of hate against her as loud as anyone when she first tried to keep Henry from you. You know very well why people had issues with her then."

"Yeah, yeah," Emma growled, a faint pink hue creeping across her cheeks. "I remember. But my issues were all  _personal_. I seem to recall the daggers she got were town-wide and had nothing to do with Henry. So why was that? Seems to me there are no potholes in the street, no schools falling down nor rubbish left rotting..."

"She's a little intimidating," Mary Margaret said, and eased the chicken out of the pan. As green eyes met hers she pursed her lips. "All right, a LOT intimidating. Even if  _you_  weren't intimidated - and I seriously think now that was half the reason Regina was attracted to you - most of  _us_  were. If not every one of us. Well, except Mr Gold."

Emma sighed and her mood seemed to sink before Mary Margaret's eyes. "But she's a lot better now," she added hastily before the former sheriff got any more sour about the old grievances directed at her girlfriend. "Now we can all see she's human. And, of course, we have you to thank for that. So don't go getting all territorial now just because we're more interested in her."

"They know she's human because I danced with her once in public?" Emma asked with a head shake. "That's just ... how stupid. People dance all the time."

"Oh no, that's not it," Mary Margaret said with a gentle laugh. She reached for a knife to chop the chicken. "You weren't even here when it happened. She announced she was going to get you back and got a little choked up when Henry hugged her and then Ruby and Kathryn started hugging her and it was like a dam broke. It was an astonishing moment. I'll never forget it."

At the silence across from her, Mary Margaret stilled her slicing and looked up. Emma was gaping at her. She quickly reviewed what she'd just said. "Oh. I suppose that does sound odd when you say it out loud. Storybrooke hugs crying mayor. I guess you had to be there. It was the moment we all decided Regina Mills may have been a little misjudged by us." She laughed suddenly at a thought. "We've been alarming her over our re-evaluation of her ever since."

"How do you mean?"

Mary Margaret grinned as she resumed chopping. "Let's just say it's been great fun watching her reactions to people's spontaneous outpourings of gratitude for the recent town projects. She always looks ready to flee down the pavement and give her Jimmy Choos a work out."

Emma threw her head back and laughed. "Shit, really?"

"Oh yes. Sometimes she gets all snippy and rude and stalks off. But it's really hard to be intimidated by her anymore when we've all seen a glimpse of who she is under the armor. No one takes it personally anymore. Never EVER tell her this," she paused and waggled her knife warningly at Emma, "but some of us think it's almost cute."

Emma thought about that for a long moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmm," Mary Margaret agreed as she washed her hands and moved back to the salad.

"At the speech, at Archie's wedding, she admitted she'd been seeing him professionally. Why didn't anyone freak out over that?''

Mary Margaret shrugged. "We all knew something had been changing her. Some people had seen her going in for appointments. Those who didn't know about it would have just gone, 'Oh, that explains it'. But why would anyone freak out?"

Silence.

"Emma?"

"I did," came a small voice.

"Is that why you got so drunk that night? You found out Regina needed therapy over what happened between you?"

"No, n-not that... It was because she went to therapy and told everyone. EVERYONE! I... it's...  _God!_ " She stared at Mary Margaret incomprehensibly as though she could imagine no worse fate in the world.

"Emma there's no shame in getting a bit of help when you need it."

The blonde bit her lip and looked down.

Mary Margaret carried two plates over to the table and went back for the cutlery. "David and I saw Archie at one point early in our relationship and we found it very useful. You know, checking we had the same goals and poking over some of the issues with Kathryn. You might benefit from going to him, too. Have you been considering it? Is that why you're asking about this?"

Emma shook her head vigorously. So vigorously that Mary Margaret stopped dead in her tracks to stare. "Emma?"

A loud, aggrieved sigh sounded from the table.

"Maybe." The word was a mumble, barely audible.

The teacher's face split into a smile. "That's great, Em. You should do it. Really." The blonde clenched her jaw. Mary Margaret knew that look. "So what's stopping you?"

"Everything?" Another mumble.

"Mmmm. OK dinner's ready," Mary Margaret said. She reached for a wine bottle and a corkscrew, keeping an eye on Emma out of her periphery as the blonde sat down and fidgeted with her cutlery.

"Lot of private stuff buried inside," Emma suddenly said softly, green eyes burning holes in her trembling, twisting hands. "Takes a freaking lot of guts to go and lay all that out with someone," she said and exhaled hard. "Not really sure I-I can."

Mary Margaret hastily put down the wine bottle and went straight to Emma's side and slid an arm around her shoulders. She was sure the occasionally prickly woman would pull away indignantly. To her surprise she leaned in a little, as if appreciating the warm touch.

"Em, sweetie, it takes guts to just  _live_  some days," she said quietly. "Let alone go through what you did with Regina. You have more courage - and she has more courage - than anyone I can think of. The fact you have found a way back from where you were, to where you are? My goodness, that takes enormous bravery. The rest is - well it's like the annoying, vexing loose-end stuff you can't deal with yourself but maybe Archie can help you tuck away or snip off. Right?"

Emma released a shuddering breath she probably didn't even know she was holding and glanced up at her. "Thanks."

The blonde reached for the salad bowl and Mary Margaret got the hint and stepped away, turning to fetch wine glasses.

"So you'll see him then?" the teacher asked hopefully,

Emma clunked noisily a spoonful of salad on her plate and arched an eyebrow. "Maybe," she offered. Her eyes sparkled.

"Whatever you decide, that's fine with me," Mary Margaret said kindly.

Another clunk of spoon heaped with salad hit the plate. "Good to know." The words were said deadly seriously but the atmosphere had lifted and the teacher was sure she was being toyed with now, especially given the curl twitching at the edges of Emma's mouth.

She grinned back. "So you'll see him then?" she asked again, being deliberately annoying, like a child asking if they were 'there yet' ten times. Amusement coated her voice. "Will you?"

Emma suddenly laughed and kept on laughing. When she finally stopped, her face relaxed and she stared at her friend gratefully.

She whispered three small words that immediately lightened Mary Margaret's heart.

"Yes. I will."

* * *

Henry Mills pulled his knees up on his bed and eyed his mother seated regally at the foot of it. Regina leaned back on one, grey, silky clad arm and crossed her legs. A hand slid into the pocket of black tailored pants. She watched him fondly.

Her son had been chattering non-stop about his party, the rides, the fun. How much he loved it; how happy he was. How it was the best birthday ever and could he get his own horse  _pleaseeee_. He'd made at least three new friends which made Regina more proud than she'd ever dare admit. Somehow all the food and festivities - and perhaps the red cordial - had affected the mood to the point her son had been both sociable and borderline popular. She hoped it would last.

He noted her stillness now and abruptly stopped his excited chatter. He swivelled his head around as though realising how quiet it was for the first time.

"Where's Emma?" he asked curiously.

"She's catching up with Miss Blanchard tonight. I thought, seeing it's your birthday, I'd have some time with just the two of us."

His eyebrows knitted suspiciously and she sighed inwardly. She'd never get used to that expression, even though, mercifully, it had been awhile since she'd seen it. As if realising his rudeness - another merciful new development - he quickly rearranged his expression to a neutral slate. When he spoke it was still with limited enthusiasm, however.

"Um, OK, Mom. What'd you want to do then?"

She studied her son for a moment. He was growing up. His face lengthening a bit, his body taller, legs lankier. But still her little boy. She realised he was waiting for her to speak and pulled her hand slowly out of her side pocket. Hesitating.

"I thought I would give you something you've wanted for a long time. Something I now trust you with."

His eyes lit up then, burning with curiosity, and for a moment she was sure she could see the exact mirror of Emma in them.

She took his hand softly in hers, and brought it over to her lap. She dropped something in it, then closed his hand and pushed it back.

She let go.

He stared at his now closed knuckles. He curled his hand open and looked at the tiny silver key. He traced it with his finger. "What is it for?"

"It is what you've asked for, Henry," she said with deadly earnestness.

"Mom?"

"I love you, Henry," she said, as tears sprang suddenly, annoyingly, in the corner of her eyes. "You won't forget that will you? That I love you with all that I am. I always have. From the moment you were placed in my arms."

"Mo-om?" This time his voice broke and he looked genuinely afraid.

"Do you mind if I ..." she faded out. But her arms lifted out towards him and he nodded. He leaned forward and allowed the hug, clinging to her a little tighter than she'd dare hope. It made her smile a little and she blinked away the tears, glad to find no new ones replaced them.

They parted.

Henry cleared his throat anxiously. "What's the key for, Mom?"

She lifted her hand to his forehead and patted down a few stray hairs. She bit her lip. Stalling.

_She never stalled._

"Please Mom? You're scaring me. Tell me?"

His eyes contained an aching plea.

She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes, dear. I will."

* * *

Emma regarded her son as they sat in a park, watching his tight, tired expression with concern. She'd been up early for a jog after a pretty good night at Mary Margaret's when she spotted him out for what appeared to be an aimless walk. Judging by the scuffs on his shoes and jeans knees, she'd guessed his exit had been straight down the side of their house. She diverted her run and had sat them both down.

"How was the night with your mom?" she asked, deciding on a safe enough topic.

He shrugged, attempting an expression of unconcern. "Different." The word came out strangled and cold.

"What happened? Your mom said she had a special present for you. Did she give it to you?"

"Yes."

_Like pulling teeth._ She sighed.

"It was a key," he added at her unspoken question after a few beats.

"Really? What's it open?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?" she grinned and bumped his shoulder with her own.

"Both," he said dully.

That brought Emma up short. "How can it be both?"

Henry exhaled. "It can be. Trust me."

"Oh. Look kid, you're starting to freak me out. Are you OK?"

Henry shook his head. "No." His eyes filled with tears and he latched onto her. "No," he whispered. "I want everything to stay like it is now. I don't want anything to change."

"What makes you think it will change? Is this about me? Cos didn't your mom tell you I'm staying now?"

She felt him nod against her.

"So then ... what's the problem?"

Henry just cried harder, his fingers clutching her close.


	56. Her

Emma turned into the walkway to the Mayor's house, one hand on Henry's shoulder where it had rested since she'd walked him back from the park. He'd said nothing else to enlighten her as to what had upset him and all she'd heard as they strolled was the occasional sniffing.

His pace slowed as they headed up the narrow path towards the door. The bronze '108' gleamed in the morning light.

Before they could reach the steps, the white door flung open and Emma froze as a wave of deja vu rolled over her.

Regina stood framed in the entrance way, still and silent, staring at Henry. Her expression, while hooded to most, Emma recognised as worry and fear.

Time slowed.

"Henry," Regina cried out and she stepped forward, trembling arms rising in an invitation for a hug from him.

Emma almost shook herself as the vivid image of the last time she'd seen this moment ricocheted around her head. Her mind fastforwarded the scene from before. Henry submitting to a fierce, frightened hug. Henry contemptuously spitting out that he had found his real mother. Henry running inside. A stunned Regina turning, open mouthed to look at her. Too filled with shock to register who or what she represented. Too worried to try and hate her.  _Yet._

Emma bit her lip and hung back, watching. She might not know what had come between mother and son but the moment she saw Regina's arms drop suddenly - as though she didn't believe he would hug her - a surge of worry rocked her.

_What on earth had happened?_  Emma frowned.

Regina's eyes were fixed on Henry, burning, fearful. Her arms now hung limply at her sides. Brown eyes jumped to Emma and back to Henry, as though asking him a question.

He resumed trudging forward but gave his adoptive mother the smallest head shake. She gave a tiny acknowledging nod, eyes warming slightly.

_What the hell?_

Henry reached his mother. He paused for a long beat, in front of the figure in a simple plain white blouse and slate grey tailored pants. His foot twitched towards the house, as if to keep moving, but then it stilled. He hesitated and, achingly slowly, looked up.

Emma held her breath, wondering if history would yet again repeat - and just how crushed Regina would be this time if it did.

* * *

**TWELVE HOURS EARLIER**

"Before I tell you about the key, Henry,'' Regina began softly, "I need you to know that it is not my gift. It is a responsibility. You might even think an awful one. A burden. I'll explain more after I give you what you want."

Henry watched his mother's face and didn't speak, aware this was something huge. His mind darted over the possibilities but finally realised he had no idea at all what she was talking about.

His mother seemed oddly nervous, and Henry realised he had never seen this expression on her face before. It was like he was about to be told ... His eyes flew open and his voice was thick with dread.

"Are you OK?'' he asked. His friend Sam, at school, had a mom with cancer. She spent all her time at hospital and he was getting sadder and sadder. He looked at her with huge eyes. "You're not sick?"

"No, dear, I'm not," she smiled and patted his hair absent-mindedly. He grinned at her then, relieved. To his surprise her face fell at his smile. "I hope you still feel as delighted by my excellent health in another hour," she murmured.

His eyebrows rose. "What?"

"Get me your book."

And that was the moment. The actual absolute moment that Henry's heart fell through into his stomach. He literally felt as sick as he possibly could when he realised exactly where this was going. Why she would want his book.

He knew it was written all over his face when she gave him a sad sigh and continued.

"My present to you is to give you something you've always wanted. The truth. The whole truth of everything you've ever demanded to know. What you deserve to know. And much more."

Henry shakily reached under his bed and pulled the book out. It had a layer of dust on it as it had been so long since he'd bothered with it. And why would he? Everything had been going great lately. And now? He glanced at his mom anxiously as he placed the thick tome gently between them on the bed. His thoughts were running riot. So many questions. But only one kept leaping out.

"It's t-true?" he asked shakily.

She licked her lips and dusted the cover lightly with her hand. She paused. "More or less. Yes."

She had said that in a strange way. His anxiety actually paused mid panic attack as he turned it over in his head. "What do you mean 'more or less'?" he croaked. "Are you ... t-the Evil Queen or not?"

A much longer pause this time.

Then: "Yes." She pursed her lips but gazed at him unwaveringly.

He stared. Really stared, trying to understand the woman who had raised him, who looked at him with kind eyes, who taught him to ride a bike, let him ride Starfire, who bandaged up his scraped knees when he was a little kid, and who ... could also be the most feared of all the villains to ever exist.

He wasn't blind. He knew his mother was also moody, cold, often treated him as though he was too young to understand anything and, at one point, had been as mean as she could towards Emma. She had enjoyed punishing her far too much. But she was still his mother. And - it turns out she was also ...  _Her_.

He swallowed nervously.

"But," Regina continued, and her eyes pleaded now, "Not anymore. And never the way your book explained it. Or rather, didn't."

Multiple responses rushed through his brain but he ditched them all. He felt her watching him. When he finally lifted his eyes to hers he saw fear.  _Fear of rejection?_  That was rich.

"You made me feel like I was crazy," he accused angrily. "You sent me to Dr Hopper. The other kids made fun of me when they found out. I had no friends for ages because of it. Because of YOU!"

"Yes." She said it quietly, looking down, as though ashamed. She cleared her throat and stared at her hands. "I felt very strongly that if I hadn't sent you to Dr Hopper that people would have thought I was an unfit mother for not helping a child who seemed disturbed and delusional. I also was afraid that if you told your curse story often enough, some people might start to remember. It was selfish of me and very wrong for you to have to endure. I'm sorry."

That stymied him. His mouth clanged shut. Henry had expected excuses, lies and rage, possibly blaming other people for forcing her to do bad things - not simple  _surrender_. He was not ready to forgive. No way. He was angry, damn it. He bit his bottom lip fiercely, trying to hold back his first response. And his second. He didn't want his mother to clam up now that she seemed to be finally talking. His rage could wait, he told himself.

Henry eyed her from under a floppy sweep of hair and asked something he was desperate to know. "Why now?"

It appeared this was not the question she'd expected and she tilted her head towards him.

"You're growing up. You used to believe everything was so black or white," she sighed. "Painfully so. Villains and saviors. All perfectly formed in some vacuum. Life's not like that though, Henry." She looked up, finally meeting his eyes, and he realised he could see anguish there, a memory perhaps. And it still hurt her. "I think you might be ready to hear about the shades of grey," she continued. "It's not a pretty story. But then neither is what I became.

"I'm sorry I have to tell it to you now, but I think I'd like you to understand who I was, who I became and why, before everyone in Storybrooke finds out. I owe you that much. You deserve to know before anyone else."

Henry nodded. He did deserve to know first.

A thought hit him.

"It's going to break soon? The curse?" He wondered why he didn't feel eager. As if his mother's sad mood had seeped into his skin. He shifted uncomfortably as he waited for her answer.

"Yes." Another disheartened look.

"How do you know?" He'd read the book many times now, and its vagueness on the curse's end had struck him each time.

"Gold - or Rumpelstiltskin to be exact - tried to put me on a short timeline to voluntarily break it, or he'd force me to do it."

Henry felt his heart skip and he felt the same foreboding feeling that always came over him anytime the man was mentioned. It was now ten times worse.

"You said he tried to make you break it soon," Henry whispered. "Does that mean you wouldn't do what he said?"

"I did a deal and won an extension, among other things," she said. "I still have to do so, but it's on my terms now. I get to tell you when  _I_  want for instance. And I get time to prepare properly for when it breaks."

She seemed pleased by that and Henry found it odd. Why, when her defeat was so close, did she seem in any way ... satisfied?

"What happens when it breaks?"

Regina gave his hand a pointed look. "You use the key."

Henry glanced at the key sitting flatly in his palm and back at his mother.

"On what?''

"I'll explain that soon. But first..." She reached for the fairytales book and flicked towards the middle. She stopped almost angrily and pointed. The black and white etching showed an Evil Queen, staring into a mirror at an image of Snow White, while holding a poisoned apple. The glint in the inked eye was positively feral.

Regina's nostrils flared in distaste.

"Read the caption," she said stiffly. Her finger lingered, sliding across the image as if accusing it of misdeeds.

"The Evil Queen plotting to murder Snow White because she is more beautiful than her," Henry dutifully read out. He slid his eyes up to his mother. She looked pained.

"Do I really strike you as so vain?" she asked, outraged. "Have you ever once known me to make any comments about the physical beauty of others in a disparaging or jealous way? I mean  _really_!"

Henry thought back throughout his life. His mother rarely commented on people's looks at all, now she mentioned it. Their fashion, sure. But not looks. Although once recently she'd slipped that she thought Emma had "stunning hair of gold" before she'd coughed, blushed and pretended she'd never spoken.

"No."

"No," Regina sighed. "So you agree this is a lie, Henry, based on what you know about me?"

Henry hesitated. He didn't know the Evil Queen at all. But then again, this just didn't ring true. The image's picture, the caption, the mean message.  _Wrong_.

"Yes, it seems to be a lie," he finally offered, then frowned. He knew where his mom was going with this. "So," he began slowly, "How many lies  _are_  there in the book?"

Regina gave him a thin smile and humphed. "Enough. But, personally, it's the omissions that are the most damning."

Henry tried to digest that. Her outrage seemed weird. The more he thought about it, the stupider it seemed to his 12-year-old brain. "But you were still the  _Evil Queen_! How can that ever be right, no matter what they left out?"

"Oh Henry," Regina sighed. "I never ever said it was right. And context is everything. If you never learn anything else in life, please learn that."

She closed the book and gazed at Henry. "You deserve the truth, yes, and I deserve the right to tell it in my own words, since you've been reading other people's for long enough. Will you listen to it? Every single story has two sides. Even mine."

He looked at her doubtfully.  _How could evil have another side? How could anything excuse any of what he'd read about her?_  He opened his mouth to say so but the sadness in his mother's eyes brought him up cold.

He was 12 now. Almost a man, he liked to think. He'd also very much liked it when she said he was old enough to know there were shades of grey. He couldn't for the life of him understand how there could be here, but ... He looked at her again. She was right about the lies in the caption. And she was his mom.

He looked across to her and nodded. "All right," he said more harshly than he'd meant. He knew he sounded uncertain and angry. Well, he was. But still he added: "I'll listen."

She folded her hands in her lap and began. "Once upon a time ..."

* * *

It had been two hours. The tale of the sweet young girl Regina and her love of horses and a stable boy named Daniel had spilled from his mother's lips, haltingly. She paused often to wipe her eyes. Her voice shook - a lot. They both pretended it didn't.

By the time his mother had gotten to the wedding to an old king, she was almost shaking, her knuckles, which she'd wrapped around one of her ankles were white. Henry had a razor-sharp sense of dread by the time she'd mentioned his "physical cruelties and emotional detachment". The way she'd said it he knew,  _knew_  in his twisted guts, it went a lot deeper than that. He had a suspicion that he knew what she wasn't saying out loud and the idea revolted him. He felt sick and his eyes burned darkly in rage for a young woman who had no way of getting out.

In a flash of insight he then blurted out a question that the moment he said it knew needed no answer.

"It was Leopold," he gasped. "You were forced to marry the Leopold monster?"

And that was when she broke down. Sobbing. Trying not to, a hand stuffed in her mouth, her eyes darting to the door as if deciding she might flee. Henry didn't even think, just scooted over and curled his arm around her back and patted until the tears stopped. She nodded repeatedly - answering his question over and over non-verbally so she wouldn't have to speak - and Henry cursed himself for having asked.  _Of course the man was Leopold._

Her tears stopped and he found her a box of tissues which she silently used. Henry gave her a few minutes as he turned over what she'd told him about the child Snow, and Daniel's awful death.

She had said three times Snow had killed Daniel by not keeping her mouth shut, but each time Henry had noticed she'd said it extra forcefully. As if saying it louder made it true. Instead he thought about Snow's father. A king who doted on his young daughter. And a small girl who so badly wanted a new mother. He recalled very well what that had felt like. It had been so strong, that urge. If he'd been Snow, just what would he have done to get the new mother of his choice to stay in his life?

He realised he didn't have to ask as he'd already done it himself. The answer was easy: Anything.

He looked at his mother and hesitated, wondering if she even realised why she was really so angry with Snow. Because everyone knows little girls tattle. He'd known that annoying fact himself since he was seven.

"This is why you blamed Snow so much? Hated her?" he whispered. "Not for Daniel being killed because she told on you, but for her wanting you as her new mom so much? For making the king feel he really, really HAD to marry you just to make her happy? That if he didn't do it she would be really sad."

"What?!" she said, gaping.

"You hated her for wanting you so much that even your own mom believed Daniel had to die to make it happen. I think you were basically really mad at Snow cos she made it so you ended up living with the Leopold monster." His voice dropped to a sad whisper. "It wasn't even his idea, was it Mom? So that's why you hate her."

Regina had frozen so suddenly that he wondered if he'd said the wrong thing again. Her entire face transformed in disbelief and she stared at him. She ran her hand through her hair shakily.

"I-I had never thought of it like that." She shook her head as if to clear it. "But the outcome was cruel and violent no matter whether it was the child's selfish desires or loose tongue that trapped me in it. I never got a say in any of it. Do you understand that?" She glared for a moment at no one in particular, then lowered her voice to a dangerous tone. "So, for whatever the reason, I hated Snow with a fury that knew no end."

"Until now?" Henry asked.

She gazed out to the window thoughtfully but did not answer immediately. Finally she offered neutrally: "I feel many things these days. It's hard to make sense of it anymore. With Snow it will always be complicated."

That was, he supposed, the most he'd get from her on the topic. Henry gathered her tear-stained tissues and tossed them in a bin and scooted back to his pillow, folding his knees under his chin. She seemed to detach herself from the words she spoke next and he soon knew why. She called it "The era of Her". There was a massacre. A war. Prisoners. Hearts ripped out. Manipulations. Punishments. More hearts. Her mother's death. Then her father's. She had choked for a moment as she explained what happened next - and how.

A curse was cast.

And then ... she looked up at him dully and said a word that shattered his heart. "Graham, also Graham." She said it in an anguished voice and then looked away, deeply ashamed.

"Why?'' he'd almost screamed at her. "You'd become good again! I was here! You were getting good! There was no need for it!"

She shook her head and covered her face in her hands. "I know," she choked out. "I do. I regret that so much. You won't believe it but it was an accident. I meant to squeeze his heart just a little, to teach him a lesson for betraying me. You can do that. A little squeeze causes pain. Then you can stop. But I was blinded by rage. Too blinded. I was so furious and vengeful and I wanted him to suffer so much. It was almost insanity. My anger was so, so strong, that I squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and when I looked down ... Oh my God ... It was too late to ... He was gone, just like that. I was left looking at dust in my hand. Too late to undo it. I stared at the dust and kept on staring and after a few minutes I realised he was... That I'd actually killed him. I could not believe it. I have no excuse, Henry. It was an awful, awful thing. Truly wicked."

She dropped her hands and tear-rimmed eyes looked at him directly. "Like me."

For a long, long beat they stared at each other - mother and son. Assessing. Henry wondered if she was waiting for him to say that she wasn't wicked. Not the Evil Queen. Not  _Her_. But she'd just admitted to doing THAT to Graham. It made him want to throw up. He dropped his eyes to his knees. He wasn't sure what she was actually. This was all really hard.

Finally he broke the silence. "Are you going to tell Emma about you? All this?"

Regina sighed. "Do you really think she'd believe me if I did? She didn't believe you and you spent two years trying to convince her with your secret missions and so forth."

His eyebrows lifted in shock.

"You really didn't think I knew about Operation Cobra, and your walkie-talkies and top-secret plans to out me and the curse?"

Henry flushed.

"You are my son, Henry, and there's very little you get up to that escapes my notice," she said with a wry smile. "That's what being a mother is all about."

"She might believe it if  _you_  told her. But you're not going to, are you?" Henry's jaw jutted out pugnaciously.

"No. Not like this, at least."

"I could tell her then." Henry eyed her hard, daring her to tell him not to. To warn him off.

"You could," Regina agreed simply. "I won't try to stop you."

He waited and when nothing further was said he realised why not.

"I have no proof," he finally admitted.

"No, dear. You don't."

His face fell. "Oh."

"Which brings me to the key," Regina said. "You now have in your possession the power to completely destroy me. You can use that at any time to expose me. But I'm hoping you won't."

Henry stared at her, blinking.  _What?_

"Uh..."

"I'm trusting you now with my life. And I believe you deserve this power after what I've done. It's a way for me to try and show you how sorry I am. I won't stop you from using the key early but if you do so before the curse breaks, then a lot of plans will be ruined and a lot of people will be affected. It's up to you entirely. You can be the 'boy who was right' and prove to everyone, including Emma, you weren't crazy. Or you can be the boy who did what was right." She paused a beat and eyed him. "Now do you see why I said it was a responsibility? A burden?"

Henry stared at her. "Tell me," he said coolly, his heart clenching, "Tell me exactly what it opens and where can I find it?"

Regina gazed at him sadly. "All right," she said in a tired voice. "I'll tell you."

"No," Henry interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "Actually - I want you to show me."

Regina exhaled heavily before nodding. She appeared over arguing, fighting. She looked drained. "Then you'd better come with me."

* * *

**PRESENT TIME**

Henry stood in front of his mother outside the mansion and examined her worried face. He'd had a nightmarish sleep overnight, with dreams of imps and dungeons, hearts being ripped out, and horrible old kings towering over weeping young girls. He'd woken early, his face covered with dried tears and had thrown clothes over his pajamas and shimmied out his window, in case his mother was already awake and in the kitchen.

He couldn't face her yet after last night.

He'd then aimlessly walked and walked and walked. It hadn't helped the chaotic thoughts arrange themselves. Or the cold hard fact that his mother had spent decades of her life as an Evil Queen.  _An Evil Queen!_

Suspecting and knowing were two very different things, it turned out. He still wasn't over his reaction. His utter shock. He'd been right all along.

As he stared at her now, he searched her face for signs of the wickedness. Combed every detail of her features for hints of the sickness he had always assumed lay within her from the moment he'd received the book. He stared hard, remembering his words to his mother of not long ago - that he was glad she wasn't Her anymore.

He'd meant it at the time. But he hadn't known all the nightmares then - done by her, and to her. She was right - context mattered. But so did knowledge. He had both now.

Her eyes watched him worriedly.  _Was she wondering what he was thinking of her?_   _Why he'd run off?_

He'd seen her arms lift, automatically, seeking a hug the moment she'd seen him, and then the arms dropped, helplessly. As though realising he'd never want to touch her ever again. That she didn't deserve it.

_Did she?_

He'd almost turned to go into the house. To run up to his room. To bury his head under a pillow and try to unsee all that he'd seen and unhear what she'd told him. He'd begged for the truth from her for so long, but it had never once entered his mind to be careful what he wished for. He wasn't even sure anymore what mattered to him - truth or happiness. It seemed it was one or the other now.

As he had crouched in his mother's cellar, and watched her turn his key on her hitherto secret safe behind the cider press, he hadn't fully understood what knowing would mean either. Before he'd known only that the truth might set the town free and give people back their happy endings. But he knew now that it would also curse his mother.

They would come for her. And he might lose her. Would probably lose her. After all, no amount of regret can satisfy an angry mob.

As he stared at the contents of the safe, his fingers rifling through it, he understood how hard she was trying to change that one harsh fact. How much she wanted it all to be right. What he and Emma must mean to her to even attempt this.

So... Henry toyed with the only question that now mattered. It was all he had thought about as she closed the safe with a clunk and gave him back the key. What he had thought, over and over, last night. What he thought now as he looked into searching brown eyes. In the end it came down to a simple equation for him.  _Was she still Her?_

Henry mulled over that. From the moment Emma had returned to Storybrooke ...  _No wait, before that._  The moment his mom planned to go to Boston to get Emma, in that town meeting when he'd hugged her in relief and others had suddenly done the same ... when she hadn't run off or shouted in horror or anger but seemed confused by the affection and attention. A little lost and a little hopeful.  _She definitely hadn't been Her.  
_

Henry Mills nodded and finally stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Regina in a firm hug. He didn't forgive her. Not yet. Maybe never. But he  _understood_. And he loved her. Regina Mills, his mother, was many, many things - not all entirely warm and good - but she was trying. And she was no longer  _Her_.

He felt trembling arms wrap around him in return and a small stifled sob. He hugged her harder and whispered one word. " _Mom."_


	57. THE PROPOSAL

 

 

Archie Hopper neatened his desk, sliding his yellow writing pad a little to the left so it lined up with his pen holder. He frowned for a moment then slid the pen holder a millimeter to the right. His first day back at work since his honeymoon had left him feeling oddly empty. It was probably he just missed being at the stables with Matt, he decided, as he moved his coffee cup precisely 4.5mm forward. The handle also now lined up with the edge of the desk.  _Perfect_.

There was filing he could be doing, he supposed, before his first client for the day. Actually his only client now - for the whole week. Business had been drying up - a side effect of an increasingly happier Storybrooke. Part of him, the compassionate part, was both thrilled and amazed. It was a phenomenon he'd love to study in depth if he could actually understand what was happening and why. And why  _now_.

A smaller, tinier, more human part of him fretted though, because like pretty much everyone else in town, when Mr Gold came calling for the rent, no excuses could be entered into like - "No one was miserable enough to need me this week, but I might have rent money next week?"

He knew, of course, Matt would be fine if he'd decided to hang up his shingle and retire, and spend a life of leisure - and doing a little business - at the ranch with him. Troubled young men were always in supply, it seemed, no matter how the mood of their town was lifting. It was just a fact of life about teenagers. If they weren't angsting about something, they weren't doing adolescence right.

A knock at the door drew him out of his reverie and he glanced up at the clock.  _Far too early for his client._

"Come in?'' he said, curiosity filling his voice. "Oh! Now here's a surprise."

The woman walked past him without preamble and settled into the chair opposite.

"I hope you don't mind? No clients expected?"

"Not for a little while, no."

"Good. That's good."

They were silent for a moment before Archie cleared his throat. "Something I can do to help you, Madam Mayor?"

"Funny you should say that, doctor," came a rich amused voice.

His eyebrows lifted. "Should I be afraid?" he asked pleasantly, knowing when her mood was good enough to engage in a little humour.

Her smile widened. "Oh definitely," she confirmed. "Would it be safe to say you're not particularly busy these days?"

"I... uh... how did you know?" He stared at her in astonishment.

"I see how the town is. In a way, I have often felt that as the mayor goes so does the town. Something of a Camelot conceit, isn't it?"

"Um..." Dr Hopper considered that. When mythical King Arthur was ill, his beautiful kingdom of Camelot suffered through poverty, misery and dried-up harvests. When the leader thrived once more, so did his people and everything else in his kingdom. "In a way, I suppose that is rather apt." He gave her an encouraging smile. "So we have you to thank for the outbreak of love and happiness?" he teased.

"I would never presume to be quite so powerful," she drawled. Her eyes danced. Then her face lost its merriment.

They regarded each other for a few minutes and Archie could feel her almost twitching to say whatever else was on her mind. Finally she spoke. "I did suggest Emma come here, you know. See you. She has refused." Her expression dropped. "It's a pity. I obviously speak from experience that you do have a talent for fixing ... broken wings."

Archie gazed at her sympathetically. "You can't force anyone to get help if they don't want it."

"I know. Of course I do." She shook her head and then pinned him with a powerful look. "Anyway, enough about that. Emma's not why I'm here. I have a proposal. And, if you're not too busy anymore, I think you might find it a rather tempting one. And if you don't, then you certainly should."

* * *

An hour later, Archie sat in his chair, frozen, exactly as he had been the moment Regina Mills left his office, her "proposal" ringing in his ears. There was no words for the level of surprise and shock he had experienced, and judging by the amusement on her face as she rose to leave, she knew it too.

"Think about it, dear," she'd said as she'd floated out the room as though she hadn't just dropped the most astonishing bombshell in his lap. "But I'd like to know today."

_Think about it? How could he do anything but?_

A knock abruptly sounded, shattering his thoughts, and he glanced at the clock, startled to discover it was time for his client's appointment. Time flies when the world blows up, it seems.

"Come in," he called and a blonde head popped around the door.

"Emma! Right on time. I'm so glad you came."

The former sheriff looked around the office and then back at him, something akin to fear caking her features. The normally fearless woman looked so terrified he hid a laugh.

He supposed he'd seen a similar look on the mayor's face once, but then it had been covered with anger and a few other raw, primal emotions she generally struggled with. Or, rather,  _had_  struggled with, until she'd had her own breakthroughs over their months together.

"I saw Regina leave your office a little while ago," Emma said hesitantly. "You didn't tell her I was coming to see you, did you?"

"No. It's not my place. But I'm curious as to why you don't want her to know? She would be very supportive, I'm sure."

Emma's brows knitted together and she seemed to somehow shrink deeper inside her blue leather jacket before answering. "I'd rather she thinks I'm being a stubborn, obstinate idiot for not seeing you than a ... c-complete failure if this doesn't work."

Archie studied the sad face in front of her. Regina wasn't wrong. Emma certainly had, at the very least, a broken 'wing' or two.

He eyed her kindly. "Two things Emma: it takes huge bravery to confront yourself, expose yourself and your deepest fears and issues. The attempt to heal yourself can never be viewed a failure, even if one particular treatment might not work the first time. And secondly, Regina would never regard you as a failure, no matter what happened. I like to think I know her pretty well now..."

He stopped and trailed off as he considered her visit. " _Maybe not quite as well as I'd thought..._ " he mumbled to himself.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "I know for a fact that Regina Mills would never think less of you if you felt you weren't improving. And certainly she would never think of you as a failure. Besides, I can't tell you how many times she accused me of wasting her time in this very room. Quite loudly, if I recall! But, as we know, it all worked out in the end."

He gave her a reassuring smile. "No pressure. You tell her when you want to."

Emma gave him a small grin. "OK." She glanced around his room again, fingers fidgeting, her knee jumping and twitching anxiously. Suddenly she leapt from her chair and strode to the window and peered out.

"Hey, nice view, Doc."

He stared.

_Birds of a feather._  He lifted his coffee mug and took a sip before answering.  _Their poses really were identical. How many times had Regina stood just like that? Right there? Strained. Tense. Hurting. Broken._

"Yes, Emma, it certainly is. So..." He waited for her to turn and lock eyes with his. He put his mug firmly back on the table. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

Loreena Greene glanced up to discover her boss's omnipresent blonde girlfriend leaning roguishly against the door frame. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes but it was a close call.

"She's not here, Miss Swan," the secretary intoned, eyes dropping back to her paperwork, which seemed to be increasing exponentially by the hour. Why her imposing boss insisted on it all being processed now was mystifying. But logic and Mayor Mills rarely went hand in hand, any more than explaining herself did.

"Oh." Sad green puppy-dog eyes would probably be fixed on her now if she looked up, so Loreena made the wise decision not to.

"And no, I don't know where she is," she sighed. "Yet again she did not leave word of her doubtlessly action-packed itinerary."

OK, so she'd let a  _hint_  of sarcasm slip out that time but it was deserved. Her in-tray contents were almost taller than her wheelchair at this point.

"So any idea why she's asking everyone to go to the puppet show at the Town Hall tonight? I mean -  _what the?_ " Emma asked, her words chasing over themselves in her enthusiasm to find out.

_God, she really was like a disturbingly happy golden retriever._  So...  _eager_. Loreena side-eyed her.

"I can't say I have any idea as to Madam Mayor's whims whatsoever, Miss Swan. But since you live with her now, why don't you simply ask her?"

"See that's the thing," Emma began, as if winding up for a long explanation. This time Loreena did roll her eyes. "... she was gone before I got up today, and she just left me a cute little note saying she was uh, you know, thinking of me..."

_Oh God. She was really going to do this?_

"I don't think the mayor would appreciate you sharing that information around town, Miss Swan," the secretary interrupted, flashing her a censorious look. "Do you?" She peered at her.

"Well no, not around town, no way. But you're her secretary, right? You already know all this stuff," Emma frowned and waved a hand. "Right?"

"You'd be surprised by how little Mayor Mills and I actually do share, unless you wish to know about her sudden bent for zoning and property transference bylaws."

"Oh? No shit?"

_No shit indeed._  Loreena sighed and decided to give up filing and stared up at the other woman. Blue leather jacket. Tighter than tight jeans. Lace-up boots.  _Right_.  _Quite the statement outfit._ She shuddered and adjusted the silken frilly tie on her austere cream blouse. _Best to just get the conversation The Girlfriend was dying to have over and done with then._

"Oh, OK," Emma said, and her cheeks pinkened. "Well anyway she also wrote that she was too busy to catch up but all would be revealed tonight at the puppet show, and to make sure to spread the word to everyone to attend. We were already going anyway, with Henry, of course. He's been dying to see it for ages. But this is obviously something, I dunno, huge - right? An unscheduled full town meeting? I told Ruby to help with the, um, info dissemination. But still, I really wanna know  _what gives_."

"Mmm," Loreena replied shortly as though giving the speech some thought when in fact she was mentally filing zoning reports chronologically. "Well, Miss Swan, Mayor Mills did not mention any puppet shows - mandatory attendance or otherwise - when she stopped by here first thing. And, as you can see, she is  _still_  not here." She spread her hands over her paperwork. "But unfortunately all  _this_  is, so I must really be getting back to it. You understand."

She looked pointedly at the former sheriff, who though clueless at times, was not entirely stupid. The other woman bit her lip, nodded and shoved her hands in her jacket. "Ah thanks," she mumbled and walked out.

Satisfied - because it was a conceit to ever be truly pleased - Loreena Greene nodded curtly and returned to work.

* * *

Nothing like a puppet show to bring out full attendance in Storybrooke, Regina Mills thought with a gleam of satisfaction as she peeked at the crowd. Even those who didn't want to attend a political event would be here for the entertainment that followed.

From the side of the stage she could see Emma and Henry in the front row, the former virtually bouncing with excitement, the latter looking about curiously. He hadn't said much since yesterday's hug on the front steps, and she knew he was still processing - and probably would for a while yet. That was fine. She was giving him space but answering questions as he had them.

It was to be expected. But she was still sad to see his natural enthusiasm was now somewhat muted.

Her eye was drawn to a late arrival, a man with a walking stick slowly making his way up the aisle with the town's librarian on his arm. Gold's burning dark eyes locked on hers and he raised an eyebrow.  _Bastard was obviously dying of curiosity._

She smiled condescendingly back at him, offering her very best shit-eating smirk to end all smirks. His eyes narrowed and glittered in warning.  _Oh yes, he didn't like not knowing all the angles and all the schemes._

The clock struck eight and she walked regally onto the stage in front of a curtain that hid the puppeteers and their act. First things, first.

The crowd stopped its chattering and restlessness when she reached the middle of the stage and stared at them, lifting one arm.

"Citizens of Storybrooke, thank you for coming to this impromptu political announcement on such short notice. I will be brief so you can get back to the reason why most of you are really here," she said and offered a knowing, self-deprecating smile. A small titter went around the crowd.

"It's no secret I went to fetch our former Sheriff from Boston. I'm very pleased to say that she has agreed to stay on in Storybrooke."

A sudden cheer went up, followed by wolf whistles and clapping and Regina waited for the town's appreciation of her girlfriend to die down.

"Yes," she said and suppressed a wide smile, "I couldn't agree more."

She slid her eyes to Emma who looked as shocked as could be. She was flushing red, and even Henry was now giggling at her.

_OK, so I might be paying later for making her the center of attention._

She continued. "I've learned a lot since Emma first left us - but most of all that life is too short. Opportunities, offered twice, should never be overlooked. We all know that's true. We all know that life should be seized where it can be. And many of us are doing that now - everyone will have seen the changes around Storybrooke lately, the optimism, the spring fever. The romance in the air." Her lips twitched.

There were nods around the room and she dared to dart an eye at the sheriff in her sweep across the room. She was almost traffic-light red now with embarrassment. But she seemed transfixed.

"So I have an announcement," Regina began. "I have decided on a change to make the most of life while I have a second chance. I will be stepping down as your mayor, effective immediately. New elections will be run but in the meantime, I have asked Dr Archie Hopper to step in as a temporary custodian of the top office. I hope you will also consider him as a permanent replacement, too, at the election. He also asked me to assure you that he will always make time to see any clients who need him in his former capacity while doing his new job."

The collective gasp was like a mighty gush of wind that swept the room. She could see Archie squeeze his husband's hand. Matt was positively glowing with pride. Emma's mouth was wide open in astonishment. Curiosity lit her eyes. Mary-Margaret and her dull boyfriend looked completely stunned but were nodding in tandem.

But the biggest delight came from when her eyes fixed onto Mr Gold. Oh the questions in those eyes. His nostrils were twitching in displeasure to be so completely out of the loop.  _Perhaps he wanted the job himself?_  But no, they both knew he was itching to make travel plans that would be consuming his every waking thought. His girlfriend, however, seemed sincerely delighted by the announcement.

Regina lifted her hand to settle down the crowd. "I'm sure you'll agree Dr Hopper will be a fine leader, whether temporary or permanent - he is fair and just, compassionate and well-organised - and we all know thanks to his other job that he's an excellent listener. He will be ably assisted by the staff on Council to ensure the transition is seamless. I know this is a bit unorthodox for a non-Council member to assume this mantle but it's a temporary measure until the election and I felt sure there would be no objections given the caliber of the man. Wouldn't you agree?"

The crowd began to clap uproariously their approval. Calls for Archie to make a speech began to echo around the large hall and Regina held out an arm towards him. "Dr Hopper? Perhaps you could come up and say a few words to your new constituents?"

Flushing and a little dazed, he walked up to the stage. Regina gave his hand a shake.

"I don't really know what to say," he began. "I think I've been in shock since the mayor proposed it this morning. I know she wants to spend time with ... uh, her family, and we can all understand that, but I also know she will be a very hard act to follow. Regina Mills has been an outstanding mayor and has kept this town running smoothly for decades."

He suddenly paused at that and frowned deeply. "Er, exactly how long have you been mayor? Because ..." he faded out in confusion, turning to her. A small murmuring went around the crowd as everyone also suddenly began to do their maths for the first time.

A chill shot through Regina.  _Hell_.  _Oh HELL._  She hadn't counted on this. When the curse was at its height and time had stopped, everyone's fogged minds prevented them from even thinking about such pertinent questions. But now ... time was moving and the veil across their minds was at its thinnest. Almost translucent.

"Oh ... I'm not exactly sure," Regina hedged. She licked her lips nervously and her eyes fell on Emma.

The blonde was now casting a concerned glance around the room as though knowing something was seriously wrong, even if she couldn't tell what.

Regina swallowed. She'd never been caught so flat-footed before. She caught a triumphant gleam out of the corner of her eye and noted Gold smiling coldly at her, as if daring her to wiggle out of this one. She would have sneered if the entire room wasn't watching her expectantly. Waiting for their thirty-something mayor to explain how she'd also been their mayor for three decades.

Suddenly Henry jumped to his feet and ran onto the stage. He shouted: "Too long! She's been mayor way too long!'' and gave her a showy, deliberately cutesy hug, the likes of presidential candidates' adoring children after a TV debate.

The crowd laughed and awwwed appropriately and the confused murmurs immediately stopped.

Regina gazed down at her son gratefully and mouthed the word "Thank you''. He squeezed her again, normally this time, and let go, looking away.

Archie shrugged as if he no longer cared about troubling maths problems and seemingly-too-young mayors and wrapped up: "Well I guess that says it all. So let's all sit back and watch the puppet show and if anyone has any ideas or feedback they want to share with me about running Storybrooke, please come and see me later. My door is always open."

The crowd gave him a mighty round of applause. Matt leapt to his size 12 feet and offered  a booming roar. The mayor had to suppress her shudder because she'd heard that sound on the battlefield more than once. Grigor certainly had an impressive set of lungs. Even Gold looked faintly unsettled. She looked down, gathered Henry's hand in hers and walked off the stage, with Archie following.

Only Emma still sat frozen, observing her closely, clearly not so easily fobbed off as the residents of Storybrooke. As mother and son took their seats and the lights dimmed, the curtains sliding open on a puppet show, she heard Emma's quiet voice beside her.

"Spill - just how long  _have_  you been Mayor?"


	58. THE LAST HOURS ON EARTH

Emma swam up from unconsciousness to discover the most delightful sensation. Soft fingers stroking her, a delicious warmth spreading across her flesh. And moisture. So much sticky, heated liquid ...

 _Oh god._ She swallowed and pried open her eyes to discover she was in bed, her pajama bottoms hanging around one ankle, with Storybrooke's former mayor, quite naked, nestled happily between her thighs.

"Good morning," came the throaty voice that made her stomach clench. _Oh Jesus. Let this not be a dream._ "I do trust you slept well, Miss Swan."

_Gah._

The licking resumed. _Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck. The way she said her name like that._

"We're back to 'Miss Swan' again?" Emma croaked out, attempting to aim for a conversation with some degree of dignity, even as her own betraying hips bucked against Regina's mouth. Oh God, that _mouth_.

"Mmm," the brunette agreed and hummed pleasantly against her. "It appeared to be something you might appreciate at this particular moment. I've always suspected you secretly liked it. I could see it in your eyes. Did you know, dear, that you have absolutely no poker face?"

Emma could hear the humor in the other woman's voice. She snaked her hands down and combed them through wild brown hair. _Well, no point denying the obvious._

"Yeah well, good thing poker's not my game. So, um, to what do I owe the pleasure? And I do mean ... _Ohhhhhh fuck!_ ... pleasure," Emma ground out. "Not that I'm complaining." She shuddered. Regina was laving and dancing over her folds with an extremely talented tongue, then swirling the gathered juices up higher, to a point tantalisingly near where her clit was screaming for attention.

She quivered. "Reg...ina..."

The other woman smiled against her sex and finally Emma received the attention she needed, _exactly_ where she need it. She twitched and bucked, wondering how the other woman was so, so good at this. _Had she researched it or..._

Emma's fleeting thoughts fled when there was a pause in the delicious activity. Then nothing. She felt cool air.

_No!_

"Do you really want me to stop and discuss my motives with you in detail?" The head bobbed up and brown eyes, fixed on hers, twinkled. "Especially given they are fairly self evident. Namely - you were curled up in my bed when I awoke and you looked delectable."

_Jesus H. Christ - of course she didn't want a freaking conversation._

"N-no!'' Emma gasped and pushed ineffectually to where she wanted that annoying, chortling head to be. "P-please continue." The marvellous head dipped lower and a sensuous tongue made contact. "Unggghh, don't stop. Don't ever stop."

"That's what I thought, dear."

There was no hiding the faint laughter this time as Regina resumed her languid, delicious wake-up call.

Emma soon was too busy coming to care.

* * *

Storybrooke's former sheriff was in a mind-blowing, fan-fucking-tastic mood when she finally headed for the stairs later that morning, although, she noted, her thigh muscles were a little sorer, given Regina's relentless use of them for abstract contortion exercises. It was the brunette's "first day off the clock", she'd declared as she wrapped herself against Emma afterwards - and she'd wanted "something to remember for it".

Emma, though, was the one who came away with the memories to last a lifetime, of that she was convinced.

They'd tried out a few things they hadn't done yet, and Emma was relieved neither of them had recoiled nor had any sort of flashback. Although Regina had murmured a soft "no" when Emma had dipped her head between tan legs to return the favor. "Just in case," she'd whispered quietly, looking imploringly into green eyes. Then she shot her a flirty glance and mentioned she had something special planned for the evening which "might help".

Emma was intrigued and realised the excited ruddy heat spreading across her chest and neck was visible. Regina merely gave her an amused glance and pulled their bodies together. Oh, how the former mayor loved naked cuddling. And naked writhing. And naked, well, anything. She had a love of the sensuous, really, the blonde had observed with delight, and the former mayor writhed and moaned, her body undulating endlessly against the bare expanse of skin, fingers plucking idly at Emma's painfully aroused nipples.

Regina might have said "no" to Emma feasting on her, but she had allowed her to faintly dip her pinky inside swollen lower lips. They had both held their breath and watched the slippery digit, sliding in and out. Emma swallowed nervously and knew the other woman had seen it. Regina's hand had then quickly drifted down between them and eased Emma's finger back out and brought it to her mouth for a gentle kiss.

"Maybe another time, dear," she'd whispered hoarsely. "It's clear we're both overthinking it. There's no rush. And right now I don't want to lose the mood."

And oh, they had definitely not lost the mood. Emma almost swooned at how the next hour had flown by. She'd never been loved like that before. It was as if Regina was touching her, memorising her - as though every moment spent with her would be her last. Like the last hours on earth.

It was intoxicating and humbling to be worshipped like that. At the back of her mind, Emma knew she definitely didn't deserve it. But she wasn't going to fight it. Not anymore. If Regina wanted to make love to her like she was Aphro-Fucking-Dite, Emma was not going to argue.

The blonde virtually floated down the stairs in her state of post-coital bliss, wearing Regina's grey yoga pants that she'd taken a shine to, and a white tanktop. As she turned the corner into the kitchen, her mood immediately dampened. Her son was planted in the brooding position, nursing a bowl of cereal, and eyeing her suspiciously. She paused mid-stride to take in the look she'd only ever seen directed at his other mother before.

Shit. She wondered if he'd heard them? But, no, they'd been pretty careful - fists in mouths, low moans, no screaming no matter how much they'd both wanted to.

"Where's your mom?" she asked pleasantly as she opened the fridge, ignoring the human Arctic blast from the table, and rummaged around for juice. The former mayor had disappeared not long after Emma had headed into the ensuite for a decadently lengthy shower. A shower that did wonders for the array of strained muscles she'd acquired in the previous few hours. She hadn't even realised thighs could bend _that_ much.

She fought back a blush at the searing memory. Regina had left no sensitive spot unplundered.

Henry shrugged.

Emma plonked the orange juice on the table and went back to find some bread for toast.

"OK, kid, what's up?" she asked as she slid two slices of plain white bread into the toaster. "Didn't like the puppet show last night or something?"

"Puppets were fine," he mumbled. "Especially the guy with that weird ladder hat. He was good."

"Well then, is it your mom quitting her job?"

When Henry said nothing she added, "I do know your mopey face. You're not fooling me."

He finally gave in and spoke.

"No. Anyway, I figured she might quit."

Emma froze and turned, eyebrows hiking. "You did? Why? She didn't even tell me. And we're..."

She flushed and reached for the butter. "Well, she didn't tell me."

He looked at her closely. "She's got too much to do now."

Emma frowned and brought her plate over to the table. "Like what? She quit. Unless I'm missing something, your mom's now officially a lady of leisure."

She couldn't help the small smirk at the thought of some of the leisure activities Regina had introduced her to so far. She could get very used to retired Mayor Mills.

Henry plunged his spoon into his cereal bowl and gave it a haphazard stir for no reason in particular, before reluctantly resuming eating. "I guess, uh, handover stuff for Dr, um, Mayor Hopper," he suggested between mouthfuls. "That'd take up time."

Emma couldn't fault the logic but nor could she ignore the fact her lie-o-meter just went off with a huge, wailing internal shriek. It was a very familiar sensation given...

She narrowed her eyes. "That reminds me: Your mom didn't give me a straight answer last night, but maybe you can - how long has she been mayor for anyway?"

Henry swallowed hard but gave another indifferent shrug. "As long as I've known her, but I'm only 12." He dug his spoon back into his bowl like he didn't care. The set of his shoulders, the way he was chewing like it was wet sawdust, made her look at him twice.

The kid was radiating anxiety. And lying to her. _That was new._ In fact he hadn't really been himself since the night of his birthday. Which he still wasn't talking about.

"Hey, kid, are we OK? You and me? Are you mad with me about something?"

Henry said nothing for a beat. Finally he dropped his spoon to the table with a clatter. "Don't do it, Emma" he said urgently. "I know you want to but don't."

"What?'' she asked in alarm. She leaned forward. "What the hell am I going to do?"

"You want to go to the library today and look up how long Mom's been mayor. Don't."

Emma's mouth literally fell open. Her hand, which had been lifting her OJ to her mouth, paused, reversed track and she placed the glass carefully back on the table.

"How did y..." She stopped. "Uhhm. Wait, why not?"

Henry gave her a hard look. "I know you. And I don't want everything to change. It's finally good. It wasn't for a long, long time. But everyone's pretty much happy now, right? Can't you see it?''

He was pleading now, but she was damned if she could figure out for what. Emma shook her head in confusion. "Knowledge might be power, kid, but stuff like knowing employment dates aren't ever going to change anything. How could they? I mean - come on!"

He gave her a sulky look and rose, taking his bowl to the sink. "I know you're going to ignore me cos I'm just a little kid and you think you know better.''

He turned on the tap, rinsing his bowl with more vigor than she'd ever seen before. Half the water in the sink ended up on his shirt. He didn't seem to care. He continued speaking, half resigned now.

"And when you find out everything later and you remember back to what you said right now..." He stopped rinsing and stared dumbly into the sink as the water kept running. She saw his shoulders heave. "Emma, just don't," he whispered, not looking at her. "Please? She's not ... I don't... I just don't want her to get hurt."

_Um ... Huh?_

Emma frowned and tried to decipher that cryptic message.

"Who's getting hurt? Your mom?"

He heaved another sigh. "I knew you never believed me before. I thought maybe you did once but now I know you don't."

"Whoa kid, is this about Operation Cobra? I thought you were done with that? Last week you didn't even think Regina was evil anymore, right? But now you think ... Um..."

When he said nothing to clear that mess up, she took a stab in the dark: "OK forgetting the curse for a sec, are you saying you think that if I check up on your mom's career, she'll somehow get hurt by that info getting out?"

Henry slowly turned around and faced her. There were tears in his eyes and he looked deathly afraid. "She might even die," he whispered. "If people knew."

Said so dramatically, it sounded completely absurd but Emma forcibly swallowed back her laugh when she saw the sincerity in his eyes and heard the tiny tremble in his voice.

_OK then, serious mode._

"Well if I'm the saviour, I'll just have to protect her then," she said in her most steely voice and crossed her arms. "Right?"

It might have worked once. Maybe, oh, 18 months ago. Strike a heroic pose, tell the kid what he wants to hear and he'd buy it. Familiar lopsided grin ensues.

Instead Henry stared sadly back at her, accusingly. "You don't even believe that you're the saviour."

_Ah hell._

Emma considered her options as she bit her lip. Lying, while tempting, didn't seem right when he was eyeballing her so doubtfully. She was starting to feel like a mass puppy killer.

"OK," she conceded with a sigh. "Maybe I don't believe it. But YOU do. And let's say you're right and something happens to put your mom's life in danger, well I promise, kid, that my vow right now to protect her won't change."

"You promise you'll protect her?" Henry asked and this time a hint of hopefulness slipped out. "No matter what?"

Ah, there he was. The hopeful kid she knew and loved.

"Yeah, course." She gave him a cheesy grin. "Isn't that what saviours do?"

His face dropped. And just like that he was gone again.

 _Oh. Right. He thought she was mocking him._ Mistrust dusted his small features. Eyes begged her to make it right, to say the right thing.

She took in a deep breath. Only way to fix a bad lie is with the whole truth.

"Well, protecting people is also what you do for someone you ..." she swallowed and prayed she was doing the right thing, "ah ... love."

She felt the warmth flood her cheeks as she said it but she didn't look away, just fixed his wide eyes with hers and waited.

Instead of reacting with surprise, he merely nodded as though she'd said the most obvious thing in the world. "OK," he said solemnly. "I believe you. I'm, um, glad you do."

He looked at his feet. His words were spoken so intensely, like the fate of the world rested on this conversation.

It was puzzling. She really didn't recognise him at times. Had he really changed this much since she'd been gone? All his usual kiddy openness was now fleeting, like dew on a leaf. Sometimes there, sometimes gone into thin air.

She'd just admitted loving his mother - _loving Regina Mills, for God's sake -_ the woman she'd been at loggerheads with for more than two years. The woman who Henry believed was an actual evil queen - albeit reformed, if his disjointed mumblings these past days were anything to go by.

But still - this was surely an enormous, earth-shattering moment in a 12-year-old's life, especially given the curse-related mythology he'd constructed around the idea of them becoming involved. Right? And yet he'd reacted like she'd confirmed to him her cell phone number was still correct.

His eyes had softened approvingly - she knew she didn't imagine that, and it warmed her - but his face had also tightened fearfully as though bracing for a blow from the universe.

_What the hell?_

When he swayed closer, she understood the unspoken plea and immediately enfolded him in a warm hug. It was a little weird at first - she was out of practice at pint-sized hugs after all. But the awkwardness soon passed.

In the next moment, with his warmth tucked up against her, she suddenly got it. Felt the evidence physically, as well. Her son was growing up. She ruffled his hair as she always did and could immediately feel he was much taller than the last time they'd done this.

It was inevitable, she knew, but she felt fleeting regret. His innocence was slipping away, replaced by a worldliness. The weird thing was though, it was like he'd had a maturity growth spurt in a matter of days. The little boy she'd slurped banana thickshakes with and discussed the town's improvements with seemed from a lifetime ago.

Or had she simply not noticed it then? She frowned in confusion. Should she ask Regina?

Henry let go and she could see a faint wariness - or was it weariness? - playing around the edges of his eyes. He gave her a sad, small smile.

"You're still going to go to the library aren't you?" he stated knowingly. It wasn't a question. Not really.

She felt her mouth drop open for the second time that day. He didn't even wait for an answer. Just sighed heavily as if he couldn't fight fate, and had given up trying.

At her non response he added: "Thought so. Well, I have to go. Bye Emma."

He grabbed his bag, gave her an impulsive, awkward, brief side-hug, and ran off. The front door thumped closed in the distance half a minute later.

Henry really was getting so much taller, her brain supplied absently, as she stared after him.

He was right. She did plan to go to the library. Something had sent a ripple through the entire town at the meeting last night. She could feel it like an almost physical tear. There was something so significant about that simple question as to Regina's longevity as mayor that she could almost taste it in the air. Then there was Gold's reaction - oh she'd seen that, too. He was almost quivering with dark delight.

Storybrooke had a secret, she knew that now. The result of her investigation indeed might turn out to be "a question of no consequence" - well, that's what Regina had said dismissively as the brunette had squeezed her hand and then told her to "enjoy the show" last night. But Emma was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Anyway, like she'd told the kid - finding out a few employment dates couldn't hurt anyone.

Right?


	59. LAS VEGAS RULES

One of Emma's misspent side trips in her former life had been a visit to Vegas. You hadn't lived till you'd been to the city of glitter and broken dreams, right?

It was a favor for an acquaintance who had a shapely boss with deep pockets. The boss desperately wanted to keep an eye on her roving husband and suspected that his business trips to the seedier part of the world were for more than just networking with his fellow executives. The client had wondered if a big-titted leggy showgirl - her words - had finally caught his attention. He'd always been a legs man, apparently.

Emma had never been to Vegas.

She'd ended up spending just under three months following the guy and discovered leggy showgirls were the least of his problems. As she'd told the devastated wife - who took the news harder than if it had been glitz and tits he'd been after - his bank accounts were getting considerably more screwed than he was. In the end, the unfortunate gambler never even laid a solitary finger on any showgirl, big-titted, leggy or otherwise.

What Emma had gotten out of the experience, however, was incalculable. She knew that after an hour of gambling at a one-person betting table, say a black jack machine, a waitress would approach offering a free drink. The effect was two-fold - to shatter the concentration of any better attempting to work a system. And to prevent lucrative gamblers wandering away to bars in search of booze. For the cost of watered-down cheap hooch, they could get the gullible sitting there for hours longer than they ever would otherwise. And of course casinos have no clocks.

Every half an hour thereafter, the pattern would repeat. The waitress would return. The target would stay, his money ka-chinging away.

After her months of befriending the staff, Emma learned to spot all the in-house schemes. The clever tricks and tactics. And, most useful of all, she usually knew when she was being scammed herself. It almost always set her spidey senses tingling ever since.

Emma Swan's spidey senses were tingling like blazes the first moment she'd stepped foot inside Storybrooke Library, to be greeted by a man who was most definitely not Belle French.

He was short but his pressed white shirt was too long. His tie was new, and the way he looked uncomfortable in it, he was clearly unaccustomed to such clothing. He was also handling books like diseased rats - holding them carelessly by their covers, pincered between fingers like rodent tails, his grimy black fingernails on show.

Emma frowned.

"I ..."

"Sheriff Swan," he interrupted with a slimy drawl. His eyes were coal black and empty, hair flopping down to that too-tight collar. "Miss French is waiting for you."

"She ... uh. What?"

Emma followed his slender finger pointing to a dim alcove at the back of the room, tucked almost entirely out of sight. It had an old microfiche machine, and sure enough, Belle was indeed stacking small boxes near it.

"How did you know I was coming in?"

He shrugged but his eyes tightened. He wasn't sharing and she felt his dark coals fixed on her the whole way to the back of the room.

As she reached the alcove, she finally realised where she knew him from. Gold's delivery man. If you ordered some curio too big to take home, Gold would have him drop it off. He didn't get that much business so Gold also used him as a general errand boy.

What the hell he was doing stamping library books was a mystery to end them all.

Her senses were on high alert as she approached Belle, who glanced up and gave her genial smile. So far Emma had only met her once before, outside Granny's, and they'd shared some marginally informative chit chat. It was how she learned what had become of the now defunct The Mirror after Sidney Glass was incarcerated.

The paper hadn't closed immediately, Emma learned. Several Storybrooke residents who fancied themselves wordsmiths came forward at various times to try their hand at running it. All had failed due to a lack of wider community interest. It seemed, without the mayor in your back pocket, the fourth estate in Storybrooke was an insipid affair, rather than a driving force. Emma wondered, briefly, whether Sidney would like knowing he was finally irreplaceable at something - before realising she didn't give the faintest crap.

Back-copies of The Mirror had been collecting dust in the boarded up newspaper office until a bored Belle had one day hit on the idea that they should be scanned in digitally, and converted to microfiche for posterity. She'd only just finished the task a month ago.

Emma thought, as she neared the petite librarian, that she should probably first ask her for the official town charter records - which usually catalogued names of high office-holders over the decades - or else the mayoral elections' final tallies, which were supposed to be a matter of public record and accessible to any town's citizen.

But she instinctively knew it would be a waste of time.

Every molecule in Emma's buzzing, hyper aware brain told her someone as clever as the mayor wouldn't keep these records lying around if they hid some sort of damaging secret. No doubt they would all have been "tragically" lost in some devastating and convenient fire, a vague number of years ago.

This wasn't Emma's first time at the bureaucratic rodeo.

Newspapers, on the other hand, as Emma knew from her investigative days, were gold dust if you were looking for movements of politicians or community leaders - especially in tiny towns like these. Every building opening and two-bit tree-planting ceremony invariably had its mayor or some top official in attendance, beaming beatifically for the local paper's photographer.

Best of all, people always forget to hide their town's newspapers, which become as invisible as wallpaper as the years slide by. So The Mirror was her best bet.

She settled into the alcove, sliding a notepad and pen onto the small table space beside the microfiche machine.

"You knew I was coming, huh?" she asked Belle, who placed a microfilm box on her desk for her and opened the lid.

"Oh yes. Mr Gold told me you'd probably be coming in first thing," she said with a friendly smile. "And why."

Emma cocked her head.  _Was she so easy to read that even the town's pawn broker knew she'd be digging around after the meeting last night?_  She scowled at the sensation.

_Charming_.

"And if I hadn't shown up?" Emma asked.

"Then he'd have guessed wrong," Belle said simply with an amused twitch of lips. "But I've yet to see that happen." She pointed to the microfiche viewer. "You'll be wanting to review our entire back archive of Mirrors?"

Emma blinked in astonishment.  _Were all her intentions stamped on her forehead now? What the hell?_

"This box is for 2000-2013," Belle continued, oblivious. "This one is the 90s. And this is the mid 80s on. The newspapers only go back to 1986 I'm afraid. I have no idea why."

"Well I won't need that eighties pile," Emma said. "Come on, as if Regina Mills was running Storybrooke as a little kid. Although if anyone had the attitude for it, I bet it'd be her."

"Regina?"

Emma paused. "I thought you said you knew why I was here?"

"Mr Gold said only you were looking into the history of the town and would want to look through our newspaper archives. Oh I'm really glad you are by the way. It makes all my scanning work worthwhile don't you think? Anyway, he said you would likely first ask to access the official election records, but you can't I'm afraid because they got too badly damaged in a storm many years ago and had to be destroyed. How sad."

Belle paused, looking devastated at the thought.

Emma choked back a derisive laugh. Regina was predictable at times, she'd give her that.

Belle didn't wait for an answer.

"Tea or coffee?"

Emma's eyes flicked around the library and back to Belle in surprise.

"Drinks in a library? Isn't that like offering me a cigarette at a gas station?"

"I'm sure I can trust you to be careful. Mr Gold suggested it might make you more comfortable if you're to be here awhile. He can be so thoughtful, don't you think? Not everyone sees that."

She smiled warmly again, and Emma could see no subterfuge in her face. Gold, on the other hand, was probably riddled with it.

So. Vegas rules it was then.

She wondered if, every half hour, right on cue, Belle would return to keep her cup filled, too? She snorted. She could completely picture Gold running a Vegas gaming house.

* * *

Emma barely noticed the librarian leave to get her a coffee. She was focusing on the task at hand and already knew exactly where to start. Twelve years ago, as long as Henry had known her, Regina had been the mayor, he'd said.

So, she would begin looking from 13 years ago. Even that seemed a little curious. If Regina was, say, mid 30s now, it would mean she was a 22-year-old when first elected mayor. Not impossible - especially given how driven she seemed - but still, a little odd. OK, a lot odd.

She rifled through the small plastic sheets with imprints of newspaper pages on them and pulled up the files from 2000. She slid one into the microfiche machine and turned it on, illuminating the plastic sheet brightly.

Then she carefully scrolled through a sea of headlines, photos and text.

Belle returned a little while later, sliding a coffee cup on her desk. Emma glanced at it and then paused. She recognised the pattern. It was part of the same set of crockery she'd rescued from Belle's father when he'd robbed Gold.

This was from Gold's own personal set. Could this day's events get any more incestuous? She wondered if today should come with its own PSA. "This library fact-finding mission has been brought to you by Mr Gold," an imagined voiceover intoned in her head.

"Is something wrong?" Belle asked and looked at Emma with wide eyes. "I-I can get you something else if you prefer?"

The young woman looked so anxious to please her.  _Of course she did._  Emma refrained from rolling her eyes. _  
_

"It's fine. Look, Belle, I appreciate the personalised attention and everything but don't worry about me. Surely you have something better to do than babysit me on my boring old task?"

"Oh no," Belle said and shook her head. "Mr Gold said there was no project more important than yours. It's why he sent Griff around to fill in for me on the desk today. So you'd have me to assist you one-on-one at all times."

They both turned to glance at the slippery man in question who was presently stamping library books with the delicate touch of an airport baggage handler.

Belle winced. "Ugh, I wish he wouldn't do that," she muttered and scowled. "Books deserve respect, you know?"

Emma smiled at that. It was probably the first thing she'd said all morning that was not orchestrated by Gold.

"So," the blonde said, resigning herself to the fact she was stuck with her young shadow. "How long do  _you_  think Regina's been mayor for?"

It had been an innocuous enough question. The entire room fell instantly, eerily, deathly quiet. It had been quiet before that, of course, but now you could have heard a pin drop.

Emma turned her head very slowly around as she realised she had a captive audience of Storybrooke's reading public. An old lady in a faded floral dress leaned forward expectantly, gnarled fingers unclenching her Jane Austen novel to turn up her hearing aid. Near her, a young man in black skinny jeans and a decades old punk shirt swivelled from his internet browsing. Eyes everywhere did not blink. All appeared to be holding their breath.

"Something I said?" Emma muttered.  _Shit, the vibe was c_ _reepy weird. Just like last night._

She swallowed. Last night it was Henry's transparently dismissive line that jolted people to move on.

She thought quickly.

"Not that I care," she offered slowly, a little too loudly. "It's not important really is it? After all, Dr Hopper is mayor now. Right?"

Activity resumed instantly, like a lightswitch being flicked back on. Emma felt a disorienting shudder go through her at the normalcy now all around her, when only a second before all eyes had been pinned on her.

She shook her head.  _Insane freaking town._

"As I was saying," Emma said, much, much softer this time, turning back to Belle. "How long do you think Regina has been mayor for?"

"Regina?" Belle frowned as she thought about it. "I-I don't really know. I guess it doesn't matter. It's not really important is it? I mean Dr Hopper is mayor now. Right?"

She offered Emma a sunny smile.

Emma tried hard not to stare. Had Belle just repeated, word for word, her line back at her? And not even noticed?

What?

"Don't you want your coffee?" Belle asked looking at the untouched drink. "I can get you a bottled water if you like."

Emma eyed the cup suspiciously. She was probably being paranoid. Too many of Henry's conspiracy theories rattled around her skull. Besides Belle looked about as innocent as could be.

Although when didn't she?

Emma's overwrought spidey senses were obviously jangling her nerves, she finally decided. "Coffee's fine," she said, not touching it, "I'm just trying to focus right now."

"Are you stuck?" Belle asked suddenly, pointing to the screen with enthusiasm.

"Why do you ask?"

"If you get stuck, then I can help."

"Really?" Emma said slowly. She narrowed her eyes.  _Talk about your scripted dramas._ "How's that?"

"I have a date to give you." Belle slipped a piece of paper onto the desk and slid it across. "In the event you say you're stuck."

She blinked innocently at Emma. "It might save you hours."

Emma pressed her lips together.

_So they were not even going to bother with the pretence any longer that any of this was her idea? Just skipping to the end?_

Emma's nostrils flared. Belle was utterly dreadful at the art of enacting subtle schemes. She could almost picture Gold wincing if he could see all this now.

Nonetheless Emma's eyes fell to the paper, a reluctance born of deep dread filling her bones, and read. She knew even before the letters formed coherent words that whatever she saw would somehow be bad for Regina.

All of this, really, had to be about Gold stitching the former mayor up. And she, Emma, was little better than a stupid gullible rat, lured into Gold's maze.

She felt sick at the thought.

Words coalesced before her eyes. She stared.

_Rat in a maze_ , she reminded herself before she could react to what she'd read.

She bit her lip angrily.  _Screw it._  She was better than this. When had she ever been some compliant dumb shit, sticking to the script of someone else's twisted plot? Especially someone as devious as Gold, who had a well-known axe to grind with her girlfriend?

_She was Emma fucking Swan, damn it._ She should have trusted her spidey senses the moment she walked into this absurd farce. She jumped to her feet and grabbed the paper, ramming it into her pocket.

"I have to make a phone call."

"But you haven't even looked up the date," Belle said in surprise. "It could be the breakthrough you're looking for..."

She actually sounded genuinely thrilled at the prospect. She held up the pivotal microfiche hopefully.

"Belle."

The woman stepped back, her mouth snapping obediently shut.

Breathing hard, Emma strode quickly outside, getting a curious side-eye from Griff at the counter as she passed him loudly smacking books with his stamp.

She dropped to the pavement and leaned against the side of the library then pulled out her phone and dialled from memory.

It answered on the second ring.

"Why Miss Swan," came the teasing drawl. "What a pleasant surprise."

Emma rummaged around for the piece of paper in her hand and stared at it for a beat.

"I, um. Hey. This may sound weird. But do you know where I am?"

There was a silence. Then the voice shifted. It cooled.

"Oh, I can make an  _educated_  guess."

"Do you have any objection?"

Another pause.

"Would it matter if I did?"

Emma thought about that.

"Gold wants me here," she sighed. "He orchestrated everything the moment I stepped through the doors and virtually handed me on a platter something to look up. I don't trust that bastard as far as I can throw him. So I'm sorta hoping you'll give me a reason not to look it up and do his bidding. If that makes sense. Cos, fuck it, I'm no one's stupid chew toy."

A long, long silence.

"Then don't. Walk away, Emma."

"Is that what  _you_  want me to do?"

"It should be what you want to do. You like things how they are, don't you? Hasn't everything been wonderful lately? I fail to see why you would want to get caught up in Gold's schemes and get distracted from what's most important."

Like an echo of Henry's words.

She rubbed her forehead and stared at the piece of paper again.

"Or it could be all a bluff, right? To mess me with me somehow? I mean what does June 21, 1986 have to do with anything anyway?"

A sharp, hissed intake of breath at the other end of the phone answered her. Then silence.

"Regina?" Emma asked carefully.

"Miss Swan." The voice was resigned. "What are you going to do?"

Emma bit her lip and closed her eyes. She'd heard it. For just a second but it was there. Fear.

Fuck. Her mind whirled.

"Henry begged me not to come here today. I thought his imagination was running wild," Emma said painfully. "It never entered my mind that maybe..."

She didn't finish the thought. It was best left unsaid. There was another long pause.

"Research is boring, Miss Swan," Regina finally broke the silence. It was said quietly, not even bothering to insult anyone's intelligence with the effort of sounding convincing. "Why not take a break for a week. Spend time with me instead. I have the time now."

"Why a week?"

"Or whatever you can spare, dear."

A deadline. Emma's heart clenched. Regina was on some sort of deadline, she realised. She remembered Henry's then unfathomable words - she has so much to do.

Her head was swimming. There was something going on all right. Something huge. It seemed just out of her mental grasp. But whatever it was could be almost anything. Right?

Certainly not ...  _that_.

She felt a shimmer pass through her as the thought of 'that' briefly entered her mind as a possibility. For just a split second it almost looked like the buildings around her had shimmered, too. But that was absurd.

She cleared her mind and focused.

"Henry begged me not to come," Emma said again, more slowly. She licked her lips and hesitated. "I'm curious as to why ... you haven't, too."

"I don't beg, Emma," came a sharp retort. "Surely you've noticed."

Emma's mouth made a faint tug in spite of herself. There was something undeniably attractive about haughty, eat-shit-and-die Regina.

"Ever?"

"Absolutely not. Many have tried to make me. None have succeeded."

The voice was as cold as a deep freezer and Emma felt a chill, firmly believing the former mayor's words.

"If I take a, um, research pause for, say, a week or two, what then?" Emma challenged. "The library suffers a mysterious break-in and all newspaper files tragically go missing? My quest thwarted?"

"How very melodramatic, dear, but you must mistake me for Sidney Glass. No one is thwarting anything. You can go back inside right now and follow Gold's obnoxious little bread crumb trail if you want. I won't stop you. Or you could merely admit the truth."

"Which is?"

"As I said before, silly little research quests are insufferably dull. Life is too short. Do you understand that, Emma? We've been given a rare second chance to be together. We should seize it. Why meddle in things that can only end ... unpredictably?"

Emma sat there, torn.

Truth or love.

_Hell_. The Sophie's choice of ethical dilemmas.

"Emma?"

"Yeah. Still here."

"I leave it up to you. I won't object or interfere whatever you decide. But you already know what I want. Come home, dear. I ... I hope to meet you there."

Emma didn't reply. Just sucked in a breath and stared at the paper still in her trembling hand.

"I don't like Las Vegas," she finally whispered.

"Pardon me?"

"And I don't like being played. Whoever is doing the playing."

"I know. I know the feeling."

"Two rats in a Gold-lined maze," she muttered inaudibly.

_Truth or love?_

_Oh Hell._

Emma's gut clenched as she softly hung up the phone.

 


	60. SECRETS AND TRUTH

Regina lifted her newspaper to skulking height and gazed out the window of Granny's Diner. From her seat she had a view of the main street of Storybrooke and, of particular interest to her right now, its public library.

She lifted a coffee to her lips and sipped, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat.

She knew Emma was most likely inside the old building, even before her son had worriedly called to inform her of his other mother's suspected plans.

_Did he think he was the only one who knew Emma well?_

She placed the coffee back down and lifted her eyes just across the top of her paper as she took in the restaurant. One couple in the far corner, with eyes only for each other.

A lone worker at the counter waiting for his black coffee. Eugenia bustled around to fill his order, short-staffed with her granddaughter having a day off.

Her eyes swivelled back outside to the library's large old doors as she recalled her earlier conversation with her son.

After breathlessly imparting his hot tip on Emma's movements, he'd urgently asked what his mother planned to do about it.

"I know I want Emma to know, Mom, but it's too soon, right?" he rushed on. "It'll mess up everything if the curse breaks early."

Regina rubbed her temples and said quietly: "Henry, are you calling from the school's office phone?"

For a veteran of Operation Cobra, his skills at discretion appeared to be somewhat lacking.

"Um, yeah. Oops. But don't worry Mom," he said dropping his voice to the barest of whispers - far too late, of course, "no one's around right now. All the teachers are having a meeting about what to do about the spate of um..."

He faded out and sounded a little nauseated.

Regina's curiosity piqued. "Spate of?"

Henry sighed dramatically and in his most grossed-out voice spat out: "Lovey-dovey, older kids groping each other.''

Regina felt her face screw up in internal sympathy with Henry's tacked on "ewww".

"Oh," she muttered faintly.

"Yeah," Henry said mournfully. "They keep kissing and making goo-goo eyes and stuff in the playground at lunch time and Miss Blanchard said the teachers had to band together and put a stop to it and..."

"Henry," Regina interrupted. She rubbed her temples again. "We're getting off track."

"Oh, right. So you have to stop Emma, right? Maybe get to the library first and, um, I know, head her off at the pass! Send her to Matt's to pick up some council paperwork!" He sounded impressed with his own cunning.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, Emma would love that," she said drolly.

"Yeahhh," he replied after a pause to digest her tone. "I get it, it's pretty dumb. But I know you still need time - and she's smart. She'll figure it out if she really wants to."

"I know. But Henry, Emma will do whatever she thinks she must. That's just who she is. I learned long ago not to tell her she can't do something because it just makes her more hell-bent on doing the opposite. I think perhaps there are other ways."

There was a long silence, so long that Regina checked her phone to see the call was still connected. Finally he spoke in a faintly amazed tone: "You really are different, aren't you?"

Regina almost laughed.

"Well. Perhaps. Older and wiser, maybe. I have hope but it's not always possible people will do what we want."

"But Mom..."

"I know, Henry. Anyway, I have to go. Thanks for the call, dear. It was appreciated. Now get back to class and study hard."

A small pause and then: " 'Kay, bye."

The phone went dead in her ear and she dropped it to the table, reaching for her coffee again.

No "I love you", of course - she was used to that, but it seemed almost like he was considering it this time. It was an improvement, she supposed. And given all that he now knew, completely unexpected.

Henry's call had been 40 minutes ago. She rose to get a coffee refill from Eugenia and was pleased to see they were now the only two inhabitants in the diner. Resuming her spot by the window, she turned the page on her newspaper to make it look good, and glanced back out towards the library doors.

She froze and sucked in a silent, hissed breath. Emma was outside now, her back against the wall, sliding down it until she was in a squat. She reached for her phone.

Regina's own phone vibrated a second later. Her heart hammered loudly as she reached for it.

Five minutes later she hung up, her heart still thumping wildly. What would Emma decide, she wondered worriedly. Would it all unravel here, now? She wasn't ready yet, Henry was certainly right.

A shadow crossed her table.

"Gold," she growled in irritation, and bared a row of perfect white teeth.

Anyone would have recoiled.

Anyone else.

"Why Madam Mayor," the pawn broker purred as if their meeting was a mere coincidence. "Or, should I say 'former' mayor? A moment of your time?"

It was just barely a question.

Regina flicked a look back to Emma, still against the library wall in the distance, still staring at her phone.

She folded her newspaper with a sigh, flattening it against the table, then inclined her head towards the seat opposite with more graciousness than she felt.

"Quite a clever little gambit putting the good doctor in charge of the town," Gold began without preamble, as he lowered himself into the seat. His thumb flicked and rubbed impatiently against the handle of his walking stick, the only outward sign of his being unsettled.

Regina flicked her eyes quickly around the room.

"Don't worry, we're quite alone," he said with an oily grin. "I sent the widow Lucas off to make me a rather complicated lunch order. It should buy us a good deal of time - unless she actually has goat's cheese and fennel butter in stock."

He seemed pleased until his eyes stopped roaming and fixed on her darkly.

"I admit you actually managed to surprise me, dearie," he said in a low tone, looking unimpressed. "A change of power? And choosing Hopper? A most ... intriguiging choice.''

She lifted an eyebrow but kept her expression blank.

"You have an objection to my replacement? A man who is above reproach, popular and fearless in fighting for what's right?" Her lip twisted sarcastically. "Really? What _does_ that say about you?'' she added, dropping her tone to one of mere curiosity.

The deceptive mildness did not fool him for a moment. Nor did he rise to the bait. He sat there and tapped his walking stick with his thumb for a few moments.

"I do agree it's always wise to place one's allies into positions of power," he responded, "Especially before a ... shift in the wind."

"That is not why I ..." Regina began, snapping. She stopped herself, irritated at being drawn in so easily.

Gold waved a hand.

"Oh, dearie, of course not," he said, his tone dripping with disbelief and condescension. "Because allowing the Charmings to be in charge when the ball drops is SO much more preferable given your delightful history together."

"I happen to think Archie Hopper will be an excellent mayor," Regina said with a scowl.

Gold's eyes glittered with amusement. "Well it's true his leadership skills and council credentials may be somewhat lacking, but he'll more than make up for it in, what was it you said? _Listening?"_

 _Hell, well, when he put it like that..._ Regina glared.

He cackled, like she was a silly child caught out in some patently foolish lie.

"Try again. Tell me: Why Hopper?"

She narrowed her eyes as she considered her answer. _As if she'd tell him anything._

The truth was a lot less complicated than whatever he was dreaming up. She didn't want Storybrooke to be leaderless when the curse broke, nor her beloved job filled by just anyone, least of all ... and Gold was right on that point ... a Charming. Specifically the dull farm boy with delusions of grandeur. As a king, David Nolan made a fine animal shelter worker.

The bottom line was Hopper was more than just a good man. He was easily the least likely of all the Storybrooke idiots to demand her execution. He might not stop it if it was demanded by the people - he hadn't intervened once before - but he wouldn't actively champion her death, she believed.

Regina flicked a glance at Gold's impassive face, wondering if he felt any guilt for his part in any of this. Or the fact she might well die, trapped futilely in the web of his cunning, cruel Machiavellean schemes.

_Nothing._

_Rat bastard._

She often pictured the mob coming after her. Dreamed about it sometimes. Pitchforks, torches, grasping, clawing hands. She was well aware when anger turns to madness and reason leaves the mind that those wild-eyed faces might even go after Henry as the person they deemed dearest to her. And she knew for a fact that Archie Hopper would never allow that. He would put his life on the line to save her son - anyone's son - and wouldn't let any personal issues prevent him doing right.

That had clinched the choice.

"He seemed the least obnoxious candidate in all the ways that matter," Regina finally answered blandly, offering her most serene expression.

Gold inclined his head and looked thoughtful.

"And what of the plucky Miss Swan in all this - she wasn't a mayoral front runner? She is your nearest and dearest ally. Although, let me guess, you cannot be sure which side your volatile true love will be on in the new world order?"

 _The asshole. He couldn't resist._ She flung him her evilest glare, hiding her uncertainty.

"Somehow I can't picture Emma Swan embracing the life of a bureaucrat, can you?" she murmured coolly, answering his first question, ignoring the rest.

He was right, of course, not that she'd ever admit it to him. There was no precise way to tell how Emma Swan would react to the fact her lover was once a mass murderer, an evil queen and only two short years ago had killed a good man in cold blood for petty reasons.

There simply was no positive spin on that particular newsflash. Emma's loathing was guaranteed. The only unknown variable, really, was _when_ it would all come out. Her eyes flicked to the library doors and she could see Emma still crouched, frowning.

It was absurd. Everyone's fate lay in the blonde's hands, and Emma didn't even know it.

She felt a twinge of fear. She didn't want this to all crumble yet. But, no matter what, she knew this would not end well.

She clenched her coffee, which was now veering rapidly towards luke warm, and swallowed a deep gulp. She pinned her eyes back on the pawn broker, irritated beyond belief the insufferable imp had even raised the topic of Emma and shattered her equilibrium.

Gold appeared to either take pity on her - or maybe he was just done with raking his nails over her hidden sores - because he mercifully changed the topic.

"May I assume that the fact you have now abdicated is a sign we are nearing the end of our little deal?" He shifted slightly forward in his seat, an eagerness he was trying to hide lighting his eyes.

She choked back a scornful laugh. "I'm clearly not moving fast enough if the carefully scripted circus act you put Emma Swan through in the library is anything to go by."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm sure."

"I'm sure you don't. But may I remind you that just getting the saviour to believe the curse exists doesn't break it. It will just pit her against me. I would ask what driving a wedge between us will actually accomplish? Why are you meddling with her at all?"

Gold leaned back and smiled broadly. "Oh I'm not meddling with her. I'm meddling with you by proxy - through her. Haven't you worked out yet that I'm using Miss Swan to force you to push up your deadline?"

Regina slammed the mug down on the table forcefully. "That was NOT our deal, Gold. You agreed I had more time to settle things first."

"An agreement I made in good faith - unlike your end of the deal which was as close to cheating as I've ever seen. Did you imagine I would simply forget that? Your unworthy double dealing?" He shot her a filthy look as cold as the wastelands of Siberia.

Regina pressed her lips together into a grim line. She really couldn't disagree. She had definitely scammed the bastard out of a great amount in that globe deal. Of _course_ he'd get her back.

"I'm rather impatient, you see," he continued airily. "Bags and toothbrush all packed. Ticket to ride ready. So I'm really just tilting the scales a little in my favour towards expediting the timeline. I don't care if you're not ready. I am."

Regina glared at him. "You don't know Emma. I just asked her to walk away. You have no leverage to hasten anything if she chooses to do just that."

"IF she chooses to," Gold repeated and leaned forward conspiratorially. "But you don't know that she will, do you? Have you forgotten Miss Swan was a bounty hunter? That's in her blood. Finding things, dearie - people, the truth, you name it - that's what she does. It's who she is. And I would say, given her charming foster-system upbringing - thanks to that small matter of your wicked, wicked curse..."

" _Your_ curse," Regina corrected with a fierce glare.

He waved away her objection. "... she doesn't know how to trust well, either. So, no, she won't be able to stop herself from digging deep to find the truth. Digging up your past and putting it all together in that forensic little mind of hers. So, just a thought, dearie, perhaps you'd better move up your schedule before you run out of time to talk to her on your own terms."

He stood slowly.

"After all, imagine how painful it will be for her if she finds out everything she knows about her lover is a lie, and worst of all, she stumbles upon the proof slapped across some tawdry newspaper article. Oh, the betrayal..." he crooned melodramatically, clutching his heart as he peered down at her. "Far better coming from the source first, and - as I keep saying - as soon as possible. Wouldn't you say?"

His eyes were positively gleaming.

Regina ground her teeth together and she looked away, irked at his manipulations. Her eyes flicked outside to the library once more.

 _Wait_.

Her eyes darted left and right. Emma was gone now. She sat up abruptly.

_But which way? Back inside or ..._

"Tick tock," Gold added cheerfully and tapped his walking stick twice on the floor. He turned to leave, just as a harried Granny emerged holding aloft a rather complicated, towering inferno of a salad.

"Mr Gold - your meal!" Eugenia huffed and slapped the groaning plate on the counter.

"Miss Mills decided she wanted to try my order instead," Gold replied breezily and opened the diner's door. He stopped for a moment and enunciated two words with cold clarity.

"She'll pay."

The door clanged shut.

Those final words echoed around the room.

* * *

Regina paced her mansion for the eighth time and then cursed herself for doing so. Whatever Emma decided, well it's not like Regina could change that now could she? She mentally replayed over and over what she'd told the blonde and briefly wondered if Henry had been right.

She then became irritated at her out-of-character second guessing of herself. And resumed pacing.

It had been an hour since leaving the diner. She'd checked her phone repeatedly and there'd been no missed calls.

She went into her home office to pour herself a cider when the mansion's front door finally clicked opened. She froze for a moment and listened to identify the footsteps. _Emma's._

_OK._

She poured a second cider and called out.

"In here." And if her voice was just that little bit shaky, she told herself it was to be expected.

She looked up as Emma loped in with her usual gormless charm and leaned casually against the door frame. The blonde crammed her hands into her jeans and eyed her under her lashes. "Hey," she said quietly.

Regina licked her lips and passed her a cider without a word, despite dozens of urgent questions ricocheting crazily around her brain.

Sensing her disquiet Emma added, "Went for a walk - to clear my head."

Regina nodded.

 _OK, a walk then. Not to the library. Just a walk. Or was she clearing her head from what she'd read in the library?_ Worry creased her features.

Emma immediately saw it and put her glass back down, untouched, stepping closer.

"I didn't go back into the library," she said quietly. "I wanted to, I really did, because I hate itchy mysteries. You know I used to do that for a living, right? Pry secrets out of people, get to the bottom of things?"

Regina lowered her own glass carefully to the desk. "What changed your mind?" she asked, as relief washed through her like a giddy tidal flow.

Emma eyed her solemnly. "I asked why you wouldn't beg and you said you don't beg."

Regina stared in confusion. "I don't understand. How was that in any way persuasive?"

Emma gave a crooked grin. "You didn't lie to me. I think two years ago you'd have barked at me that you had nothing to beg about and I was being ridiculous. Today you trusted me. I liked that."

Regina blinked incomprehendingly. _What?_

Emma broke into a small grin at her expression. "I like honesty, and as I said, I appreciated that you didn't pretend this wasn't a big deal, or you weren't hiding anything, when clearly you are. You only said that you don't beg."

Regina blinked stupidly. "That was it?"

The world didn't end today because Regina had spent a lifetime being too proud to beg?

"Oh no. Of course not. When you said our ... um ... our relationship would be at risk if I went ahead, I mean, come on. I'm not the smartest woman on the planet but I know where my priorities lie. I love you enough to trust you with your big-ass secret that I could easily find out. And I trust that you have a really good reason not to tell me."

Regina's head bobbed once firmly as she croaked out "I do."

She took a step forward and her fingers curled around Emma's waist, crushing herself into her for a hug. So soft. It was too much.

Then, before she could stop herself, a tiny choked sob hitched in her throat. _Oh God, no._ She pressed herself against Emma's neck, appalled at her weakness, and felt long fingers stroking through her hair.

"Hey, Regina, you OK? I said I wouldn't look. I meant it."

The brunette nodded again, pressed against her neck.

"Oh, right, so - good tears?"

 _Hell, this was embarrassing._ Regina wished she could get her veneer of cool back. Weld on her mayoral mask at least. _For God's sake, she was Regina Mills. She didn't sob into girlfriends' necks and tremble in their arms. Even girlfriends touching her so lovingly that she felt her knees threaten to buckle._

It was such a curiously safe sensation. Had she ever felt anything like it before?

 _Safe_.

When was the last time she'd applied that word to herself or any part of her life? If ever?

"Regina, believe me when I say I had no idea how freaking big a deal this was before I went poking into your life this morning," Emma suddenly murmured. "I know Henry tried to warn me off but his imagination is pretty, um, vivid, right? But then you warned me too and I finally caught a clue. Seriously, Regina. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Truly, I didn't know."

"T-thank you," Regina said in a cracking voice muffled by soft flesh under her lips. "Thank you," she tried again, with a little more dignity.

" 'Sides, I'm sure you'll tell me whatever it is when you're ready, right?"

Regina pulled away and gave a wan smile. "You'll find out soon. It will be when it is necessary and not now, when it would cause the most harm."

Emma considered that. "Look, can't say I'm not burning up with curiosity, but like I said - I'm gonna trust you."

Regina gave her a sideways look.

"What?" Emma asked.

"You reminded me. Just something Gold said: That you don't know how to trust very well. You just proved him completely wrong. Which delights me on many levels, dear."

"Gold said that? That asshole knows nothing about me! Or how much I feel for you. What I would do for you if it came to it..."

"I think he was too busy making sweeping generalisations about former foster children." Regina suggested quietly.

Emma eyed her for a moment. "Oh." She hesitated. "Well, to be honest, he's not _entirely_ wrong. But that was before I met you. Laws of physics, gravity and trust issues have all been upside down and weird ever since."

Regina cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. Emma smirked at her and leaned forward, kissing her so, so gently. She placed a palm against the brunette's cheek. "Beautiful," she whispered. It was said so lovingly, Regina's breath caught.

A wash of thoughts flooded her mind, not the least of which was guilt. She wondered how much trust Emma would have left when this secret was blown wide apart.

But it couldn't be helped. Not yet. Not so soon to everything being ready. Emma was too much of a wildcard.

"You're thinking too hard," Emma chided softly and kissed her again.

Regina's thoughts finally focused on what Emma's sweet probing tongue was doing and she felt a low moan emerge from the back of her throat. She realised, if her deadline came to pass as expected, she might not have that much more of this. Her whole body sank in dismay at the thought.

Another light, tender kiss and Regina's resolve firmed. Sieze the day, then. And the hour. And the minute. She leaned in and offered Emma a husky "tsk".

"Really, dear, I just don't think you're trying."

Emma's eyes lit up in delight at the sensual promise.

The brunette leaned in and kissed her with fervor and tried to show all the love she felt. Love she couldn't even admit out loud without the collapse of her whole world.

Not yet.

And so she kissed her with passion and adoration until they both pulled apart gasping, pupils darkening with desire.

"Oh God," were the last words Emma Swan whispered that were coherent for the next few hours.


	61. WANTED

Emma Swan, former resident of one beat-up yellow VW, former address nowhere, a child of nobody, was now wanted.

She felt it the moment Regina Mills enfolded her in her arms that Monday afternoon and didn't let go until just before Henry got home.

She felt it later that night when Regina curved herself around Emma's back and just held her as though she were the most precious creature she'd ever encountered.

And then they had made love. Not had sex. No, nothing so crass or thoughtless or incidental. Regina had watched her through dark, hooded eyes, a sensuous smile curving across her face, and touched her  _everywhere_. Light fingers, smoothing over her skin, teasing, dancing ... loving.

And when, even later that night, in a voice raw from her earlier muffled cries, she had suggested they try something else, Emma had been more than willing. She'd watched, intrigued, as her lover's soft body had reached across hers, pulled open the bedside drawer and held up a jar.

_Huh_. Edible chocolate paint.

"It seems to me it's high time for you to taste me," the brunette had whispered in a voice so low and gritty, Emma felt her insides clench.

She was passed the concoction while Regina whispered in her ear, pressing herself tightly against her, "And it also occurs to me that tweaking my ... flavor a little might be just the thing you need?"

_Ah. So that was what she'd meant that morning. The thing she said "might help''._

It was incredibly thoughtful. Emma tried to still her thundering heart and buy some time by squinting at the label. Her pause was noted and she heard Regina whisper again in her ear, this time without the flirtiness. "Only if you want, dear. If it's too soon..."

"No!'' Emma said swiftly, seeking Regina's eyes in the semi-darkness. The bedroom was lit by two white, fat candles, flames now low. "No, not at all. I just, I've never ... I'm... I don't think I've ever used a, um,  _prop_  of any sort before."

Regina's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What,  _never_? Not even with ..." She faded out. Invoking the name of exes in bedrooms was clearly a stupid idea, Emma had always thought. Regina Mills was not stupid.

Emma found herself blushing hotly. How to explain that until she'd dated Regina no one had ever bothered to make sex a sensual, higher-level experience that didn't resemble a quickie in the back of a car? Which was literally what much of her sex life had comprised, come to think of it.

"Emma,'' came the soft whisper, understanding, gentle, "Has no one ever taken their time with you? Has no one ever touched and teased you or let you take them on your terms?"

Emma rolled over, sliding inside Regina's circle of arms, the chocolate paste forgotten. Their bare breasts rubbed erotically together and Emma dropped a kiss against Regina's lips and chin. "No," she admitted. "Never. Not saying I didn't want to be with Henry's father or anyone else I've been with but... " She sighed. "There's a difference. Between fast and dirty and ... our way.''

She felt fingers stroke her hair and massage her scalp. "Yes," Regina said quietly. "I know. There is. And once I discovered what it was I never wanted to be without you again."

"You mean, you didn't have that either? Before me?"

"Not exactly," Regina said after a long pause. "I admit I did things on my terms with Graham. But it was never a beautiful or gentle thing. Never lo..." She stopped. "Never like it is with us."

Emma stared at Regina's lips. The way they had suddenly stopped murmuring. The quick intake of breath and hurried wash of words. Emma could have sworn she had been about to say 'loving'. Then she simply didn't.

Emma knew there wasn't a hell of a lot to love about her. Nonetheless, with Regina, it often felt like ... more.

A hand had cupped her face, and a thumb flicked softly against the edge of her eye. She realised Regina had just wiped away a tear. She hadn't even noticed she was crying.

_Why was she crying?_

"Emotions are hard," Emma finally croaked out by way of an explanation for a response she didn't even understand herself. Then she felt immensely stupid for saying anything.

Regina replaced her hand with the soft curve of the side of her face. "Yes, dear, they certainly are. But never doubt what I feel for you."

Emma held her breath. For a moment she felt like time itself was almost holding its breath. Regina turned and stared intensely into her eyes, daring her to believe anything less than what she'd just said. Fire burnt within.

Emma waited for an explanation before she finally realised there actually was no more to her sentence. Whatever Regina felt she wasn't in a sharing mood.

_Right._   _Of course not._  This was the inscrutable Regina Mills after all.

She sagged and wondered if she should just suck it up and ask her, point blank: "So Regina, what exactly DO you feel for me? Inquiring minds wanna know."

Regina slid her head down to Emma's shoulder and gave a small, playful nibble. "Do you want to try the chocolate endeavor, or shall we attempt that another day?"

The clock ticked forward again. It seemed unnaturally loud as the intense moment was lost.

Emma tried to pretend she didn't mind. Not everyone likes to share their feelings, right? She gave a small smile and felt about the bed for the glass jar. Her fingers latched onto the cold glass. "Sure, yeah, why not?"

Regina smiled widely against her collar bone, providing a sweet kiss, and then rolled over. "Then by all means," she husked and her burning eyes sought out Emma's once more.

The brunette slowly parted her legs and offered her lover a view of her glistening center.

_Oh my god._

Whatever residual disappointment she might have felt fled her brain as her eyes latched on to the sight of Regina deliciously spread out, waiting for her.

Emma had wanted to taste her for weeks. Months. Longer?

"Taste me," Regina drawled.

Emma swallowed.

_By all means._

The first, hesitant touch of chocolate-tipped, soft brush bristles against Regina's skin made the woman splayed on her back quiver. Emma decided she liked that sight.  _A lot._  She drew more of the chocolatey brush down, over her swollen labia, then even lower to Regina's dark center, gave it a small circular swirl and then went up the other side.

She glanced quickly up at Regina. Her dark red nipples were now rock hard and a sheen of perspiration seemed to be virtually glowing from her chest in the half light. Her neck muscles were taut as Regina arched her head back into her pillow, a small gasping noise coming from somewhere near the bedhead.

Emma teasingly ran the bristles back to Regina's now peeking clit and swirled around it. Another shudder wracked the body beneath her, and this time Emma heard a soft keening.

"Please,'' came a hoarse, jagged whisper, "Please, please, Emma."

_Begging_. She smiled.  _Regina never begged._

She wisely chose not to comment, feeling humbled to even be allowed to hear it. Emma carefully returned the resealed jar to the beside table with its brush and leaned forward between the brunette's legs and blew gently. The swollen folds were now shining with moisture and slick with chocolate.

Regina quivered and twitched again impatiently.

Emma licked her lips and paused. Finally Regina lifted her tousled head to see what the hold up was and raised a questioning eyebrow.

_Hell - she can look so haughty when she's aroused._  Emma offered her a crooked grin.

"Just anticipating the moment," she explained.

"Well anticipate faster," Regina ground out. "Torture is against the Geneva Convention you know."

Emma felt her heart rate leap. _That voice._ Regina Mills spread before her. Waiting. A bolt of fear suddenly rocked her. She knew her hands were sweating. She knew she was a bit afraid. What if...

The last time... there had been that flashback and... She swallowed anxiously. Regina looked so ready and enticing but what if...

"It's OK," came a softer voice, and Regina sat up suddenly, understanding evident in soft brown eyes. "Really, it's OK."

And that sealed it.

Emma dropped her mouth to Regina's intimate folds and swirled her tongue. Her lover flopped back to the mattress with a deep, surprised oomph. The chocolate taste mingled with Regina's own unique flavor, forming an entirely new taste experience. And it was delicious. Emma moaned in delight and dug her tongue in deeper, exploring every inch of the slick flesh she found.

That moan seemed to unleash a tidal wave from Regina who suddenly bucked her hips and called out Emma's name, strangled and urgent.

Vastly pleased, Emma went to work in earnest. Licking, teasing, tonguing, tasting. She had quickly wiped away all evidence of chocolate and by the time she realised she was now savouring purely Regina's essence, her mind had shorted out and moved on.

She felt her own heat rising as she heard Regina's now ragged gasps, felt fingers tugging in her blonde tresses and hips below her jerking wildly against her mouth. She scraped her tongue firmly around Regina's clit and then danced the tip of it right across the top of her most sensitive spot.

Emma heard an almost startled "Oh!" before the woman beneath her went instantly taut, thighs clenching, back bowing, and came in a shuddering, low wail. Then she went limp.

The blonde slid up Regina's body, clutching her against her, needing to feel the closeness, and felt reassuring, warm hands, slip around her back and pull her in.

A thigh insinuated itself between Emma's legs - lifting, tensing, then dropping - in a suggestive rhythm. It was too tempting to ignore. Emma groaned against Regina's shoulder, pushing her center up and back in a slippery streak along the toned, muscled thigh, and promptly came so hard she saw stars.

Holy god.

* * *

_Delicious_.

That word barely described the half of what they had experienced over the next four days. Regina seemed as though she couldn't keep her hands off Emma. Every day, sometimes several times a day, she would lure Emma home and pounce. There would be sensuous, slow sessions, hot and heavy encounters, and occasional, lengthy cuddles that were so lazy and blissfully comfortable Emma never ever wanted to leave Regina's bed. It was as though, by every way other than words, she wanted the blonde to know she was loved.

But still she didn't say the words.

Emma noticed of course. But then again, she noticed a lot of things. Often quite in spite of herself. Like the way Regina would sometimes disappear on errands - that's what she called them - but would give no sign of what she was doing or why. It made no sense, given she had taken on no new job, nor seemed to have an interest in doing so.

That in itself was peculiar for one formerly so driven.

On the fifth day of what Emma secretly thought of as their summer of love, Mayor Hopper had approached asking her to take over as the town's sheriff. She told him she'd discuss it with Regina.

Regina had, surprisingly, looked at her thoughtfully and asked her to delay for two days and then take it. But she had offered no reason why.

Like pretty much everything else - explaining things was not a high priority for her.

Emma wasn't blind to the other things, either. She'd been enjoying a late lunch with Ruby at the diner one day and had paused mid toasted-cheese-sandwich bite when the waitress, who'd pulled up a seat opposite, commented: "Huh, that's odd."

"Mmm?"

She'd followed Ruby's eyes to a small, distant road, where they both watched the former Mayor's distinctive Mercedes disappearing.

"What's down there?" Emma asked. The road rang a vague bell with her. It clicked into place when Ruby said: "Some crazy guy. Jeffrey or something. Obsessed with old-style hats."

Emma felt herself shudder as she remembered all too well just how crazy the bastard was. How her crazy kidnapper hadn't been locked up for his own good was a mystery.

_Come to think of it, why hadn't he?_

"Please tell me the road leads somewhere else, too?" Emma pleaded. The idea Regina was visiting him socially sat like raw wriggling squid in her guts.

"Yeah it also leads out of town, I guess. But there are more direct roads. That's pretty much the long way round," Ruby said.

Emma put her sandwich back on her plate and pushed it away, appetite lost. Ruby used the silence as a chance to fill the void with gossip. Her eyes lit up.

"So spill. What's Regina up to? And why's Henry staying at Matt's these days?"

Emma shrugged. "She's her own woman, she'll tell me when she wants to." She wondered if that sounded as defensive to Ruby as it seemed to her own ears. "And, ah, Henry asked to spend the week at Matt's. He's learning some fancy footwork with Starfire this week."

She scowled and stared at her congealing cheese sandwich accusingly.  _Fancy footwork my ass._

"What is it, Em? What's wrong?"

_Henry lied to me, that's what_ , Emma thought darkly.

"Nothing."

At the waitress's skeptical look, she shrugged again. "I, um, don't think Henry was up front about why he went to Matt's for the week."

Ruby laughed hard. "Gee," she wheezed. "I wonder why."

"Huh?"

"God, hon, are you really so clueless?" Ruby grinned. "Would I be wrong in suggesting you and Regina have been going at it like rabbits? Honeymoon phase and all that? Do you really think your 12-year-old kid's ears are painted on?"

Emma flushed scarlet. "I..I" She shook her head appalled. "We've been careful!'' she hissed. "He'd never know. Oh shit, do you really think...?"

Ruby pulled an amused face. "Sure you have, Em," she grinned. "Quiet as church mice. And the moon is made of cheese."

Emma scowled. "Seriously, we HAVE been quiet."

Ruby eyed her for a moment, her smile fading. "Then why? Give me a better logical explanation. One that doesn't involve your highly intuitive kid picking up on all those smoky sex-bomb vibes you two have been oozing all week."

"We have NOT been oozing sex-bo.. Ruby, for God's sake! Get your mind out of the gutter," Emma sputtered. She spread her hands out. "I have no clue why Henry has bolted but what's weirder is Regina isn't bothered at all. Like she knows the reason and isn't sharing."

Ruby peered at her and her face fell. "I know it's not my place but aren't relationships built on trust? Why's she keeping secrets from you?"

"They ARE based on trust. And she's trusting me not to ask," Emma folded her arms and shot off a warning glare.

The waitress looked at her uncertainly. "Hmm." She stood and indicated the cheese sandwich remnants. "Done with that?"

Emma nodded.

"I really hope you know what you're doing, Em," she said quietly as she headed back to the kitchen.

_So do I_ , Emma muttered softly to herself once she was out of ear shot.

* * *

Sessions with Archie Hopper were starting to drive Emma mad. She'd thought about quitting several times but each time she'd pictured Regina. The woman she was - and the woman she'd become. If the mayor could get over what seemed like a shitload of issues, then maybe, just maybe, she could too.

_Maybe._

"What's wrong, Emma?" Archie asked kindly. "You seem more agitated than usual." He smiled to soften the remark.

Emma tucked a foot under herself on the chair and stared at him balefully. If only he knew. Which he couldn't because in seven sessions she had told the patient man exactly jack.

Then her mutinous mouth suddenly opened. "Let's see, Regina's creeping around like some super sleuth on secret errands she won't talk about. My son's living with your husband for no reason I can figure out. I'm having the best sex of my life with someone I love but who won't tell me she loves me. And I'm being kept in the dark on absolutely everything, but I keep telling myself, 'Hey, that's cool, I'm being a good, trusting girlfriend'."

Her mouth clanged shut again and Emma knew if she had access to a mirror her eyes would be bulging in shock.

Archie's eyebrows slid up, clearly just as surprised by her uncharacteristically open admissions. Emma couldn't blame him.  _  
_

"Well ... Emma, that's quite a list. So which of these things bothers you the most?"

"Ah..." Emma stopped and looked up at the ceiling to her left. The off-white paint was flaking, curling at the edges in places. Moisture maybe? She debated whether she should mention it to Dr Hopper. Then she wondered why she was sidetracking herself again.

"Um... the loving me thing, I guess."

She looked down. She felt strangely disloyal.  _Would Regina mind her admitting this stuff?_

"Why does that bother you most, do you think?"

Emma sighed. She rose and stalked to the window, not seeing Archie's small smile at the familiar movement.

She tapped against the window frame with her hand, enjoying the rough hew of the wood that had clearly only had one coat of paint. Between that and the ceiling it was clear Hopper's landlord was a useless miser.  _Gold, probably._

She was getting distracted again and leaned her head against the wall, peering into the street below.

She knew why it bothered her. The thought of saying it aloud made her feel sick. She never said stuff like this to anyone.

_Ever._

"Emma?"

"Do  _you_  think she doesn't love me?" Emma asked quietly, deflecting.

Archie pursed his lips and she spotted him doing it in the window's reflection. She knew what that meant. He was trying to hold something back.

He obviously knew the answer to the question. She pulled a face at her own reflection. Stupid thing was, she knew his answer, too.

"OK," she conceded.  _She could do this._

She dropped her voice to the faintest whisper: "It bugs me she doesn't say it because... ah." She stopped and took in a shuddering breath and tried again. She finally mumbled: "Cos I think maybe, it'd be crazy for anyone to love me. Especially someone like her."

She hugged her ribs as if cold and gazed at the passing parade. She gave a small dry laugh, devoid of mirth. "That what you want to hear?" she mocked. Even so the blush flooded her cheeks.

She glanced back and saw only sympathy and understanding. She wanted to curl her lip - in that fabulously derisive way Regina did. She identified his expression.

_Pity_. Great. Just what she needed. Got enough of that shit when parents at her various schools would pick up their own kids each day and deliberately avoid eye contact with the aloof foster kid in the shabby second-hand clothes.

She stood up straight and glanced towards the door.  _She could just..._

"No, Emma," Archie interrupted her plan for an early exit. "Sit, please. And no I don't pity you, if that's what you're thinking. Just tell me why you would think a competent, skilled, attractive and highly effective bounty hunter like yourself would ever be thought of as a poor match for anyone?"

Emma knitted her brows together and growled: "You know why."

"Yes, but perhaps you should say it so we can make that fear feel insignificant. Because it  _is_  utterly groundless."

Emma shook her head. Silence filled the room.

"Emma," Archie said after a few more minutes had ticked by, "It's important."

"I know," she said painfully. "But who's gonna pick up the pieces when I shatter in a minute because you've made me say it out loud? How will I be attractive and competent or worthy and all that shit to anyone then? No one likes a mess, doc." Her face twisted.

"Emma, I'll be here. So will Regina. And your friends."

Emma glared at the street view one more time before turning back to him. She rammed her hands into her jeans pocket and repeated in a snarl: "No one likes a mess. They hand you back if you make too much of a mess."

Her voice cracked and she felt the shame rocket through her. The memory hit her hard, grabbing hold of her almost as if she was being pinned to the wall by a meaty forearm.

She could see it, plain as day. Hearing the latest man she was supposed to think of as her father shout at her for "making a mess" and acting like she was "raised in a barn". She'd left some drops of water spattered around the sink when she'd washed up for him. And she couldn't wipe off the water at the back of the sink because she wasn't tall enough to reach that far. She was only eight.

He'd slammed his half drunk bottle of beer on the counter beside her trembling form and made her jump at the crashing noise.

"You're just a messy little grub aren't you?" His face closed in angrily on hers. Nose to nose. "You shape up or back you'll go. Hear me?"

It took four months. Her fear of his fury had only made her more nervous when doing her chores. Her failings, catalogued in boozy, ever-more-hateful monologues, became longer. She was a stupid, ugly mess, unwanted, not worthy. "Get your shit together," he'd hiss into her ear, or "I'll send your scrawny, lazy ass back".

One thing he wasn't was a liar. Everyone said so. Even his wife, a small cowering woman with empty eyes who never said anything much.

She was right. He'd proved his honesty when, at the end of the fourth month, he had indeed sent her back, with a scrawled note she'd read upside-down in the open file on her case worker's desk: "Not worth the effort."

So, yes, she was well aware that no one likes a mess.

Archie's eyes viewed her softly. "Emma, you are not a mess. And no one is going to send you anywhere. These are just your childhood fears coming back to haunt you."

Emma shrugged and tried to surreptitiously flick away a tear trickling down the corner of her eye. "Regina already did once. Remember? But I deserved it." Her voice shook. "We both know I did."

Hopper slowly stood and walked to her side by the window. She felt his presence beside her and could smell his faint trace of cologne.

_Oh Jesus - Hopper wore Old Spice. Of course he did._  She'd have rolled her eyes if they weren't busily leaking in a freaking inconvenient way.

"Emma," he said kindly. "You're not going anywhere. We all want you to stay. Especially Regina. She went to fetch you back, don't forget. Can't you see, Emma? You're wanted."

Emma exhaled hard against the window glass. It fogged up a little.

It'd be so nice to  _know_  that. Feeling it was one thing. She felt it in Regina's arms each day and it made her swoon.

Knowing? Well, she really wished Regina would say whatever it was she felt. Then she'd know...

That'd be something.

"Be patient, Emma," Hopper said gently, as if divining her thoughts. "She does care very deeply for you."

Emma nodded and glanced at him.

"Yes," she said flatly. "Of course."

This really was pointless.

Archie looked at her pensively as she stepped away from him, faltering briefly before she turned, stalked out of the room, hastily fisting the tears from her eyes.

_No one likes a mess, after all._

* * *

Regina examined her cell phone which had just beeped, interrupting her exhaustive preparations for a romantic dinner for two. She slipped off her oven mitt and scrolled to the new text.

It contained a single sentence: "A mad little birdie tells me you're ready now?"

She supposed she could string out the vexatious man a little longer, just to punish the imp for playing her so many times over the years, but she didn't have a death wish. The closer he was coming to his goal, the more on edge he had become. She didn't really want to push her luck. An enraged Gold could actually make everything much worse, as he had already demonstrated by toying with Emma.

With a small sigh, she texted him back then put her oven mitt back on.  _Stuffed pears for dessert, perhaps?_

Across town, an immaculately dressed pawn broker glanced at his cell phone. His hands trembled as he eased it delicately back onto his glass counter, as though placing it too hard would somehow change the message contents.

He bent forward and stared at the message again, not quite able to believe. A smile split his face apart as his eyes focused on three perfect letters.

**Sender RMills Fri 5.27pm:**  Yes


	62. THE LAST DAY ON EARTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter originally went much, much further along the timeline but it blew out to a ridiculous length so I cut it in half. The next one will be along soon, so don't hate me too much.

SUNDAY - SUNSET

  
Emma Swan thought she was most likely drunk. Well if not entirely, well on her way. She stretched out her long jean-clad legs on the mansion's balcony, her back against Regina's bedroom wall beside the french doors and took another swig of beer. She placed the glass bottle down amid its scattered, empty compatriots, and stared at the sunset.

Emma lifted a hand to the sky as she had done countless times in the past hour and watched in bemused amazement as the air seemed to shift and part and shimmer. She fought very hard not to think too hard about what that meant and reached for her beer again.

Scarlet reds streaked across the sky as the sun dropped ever lower and Emma leaned her head against the wall. _Beautiful sunset, that was for sure._

_Beautiful._

And that was how Regina Mills found her.

* * *

SUNDAY MORNING - TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

Emma snuggled tightly against the mayor's frame unwilling to admit the day had actually begun.

"It's Sunday, Regina," she complained. "Stay in bed."

"I would dear but I have some rather pressing matters."

Emma let her finger slip across Regina's bare nipple and gave it a suggestive rub, delighted when it hardened against her palm. "Now what could EVER be more pressing than this?" She smiled and nuzzled the brunette's shoulder. "Hmm?''

"Well, dear, there is _one_ thing," Regina said quietly and turned her head pointedly towards the en-suite door. Emma reluctantly let go with a glower. "Fine. But hurry back."

"Why? You'll get lonely without me for five minutes?" Regina threw back the covers on her side and rose, stark naked.

"Don't flatter yourself. I just need my aesthetically perfect bed-warmer," Emma retorted. She leaned on an elbow, her eyes hungrily following Regina's every move and flex of muscles as she walked.

She heard an amused snort as the bathroom door clicked shut. The blonde rolled over and flopped back on the bed looking unseeingly up at the ceiling. Her mind skittered back over the events of the night before.

* * *

SATURDAY NIGHT

Regina Mills never ceased to amaze her. Nor did the people of Storybrooke. She'd gone so long without being needed by anyone, and now this.

She'd arrived at Granny's, with Regina a step behind her, for the much-hyped Saturday party dubbed Archie's Big Mayoral Bash. It was to celebrate Archie's new job and everyone would be there.

The moment she'd stepped through the door, though, the truth behind the party became only too apparent. "Welcome back Sheriff" banners and bunting hung on every wall and, everywhere she turned, she could see little decorations comprising sheriff badges.

Her eyes had narrowed and she slowly turned an outraged glare at Regina who bit back a smirk. She gave Ruby and Archie a matching pair of dagger looks, as well, when they unrepentantly laughed at her expression.

"Don't be too mad, Emma," the waitress grinned. "Everyone figured it was our only way to drag you over here to thank you for becoming our sheriff again."

Emma crossed her arms and peered around the room at a sea of smiling, expectant and familiar faces. All focused on her. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Just don't expect a speech," she finally mumbled, cheeks aflame. The entire room burst into laughter. Then someone arced up the volume on the jukebox and the drinks began to flow liberally.

She felt the edges of her mouth tugging up as she took in the welcoming scene and felt a comforting hand on the small of her back. She didn't even have to turn to know whose it was. She leaned back into it and could smell Regina's scent, something alluring and faintly spicy tonight, and it seemed to offset the former mayor's deceptively tame little black dress. A dress that did, however, show off the sleek curves of her calves and lower thighs to stunning effect.

Emma exhaled. She was secretly amazed anyone would go to so much trouble for her. It sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach - a feeling parked somewhere near the warm coils of love she felt for her girlfriend.

They had been true to their word as the night progressed. She didn't have to make any speeches - they'd spared her that horror at least, but Regina's contribution had been a revelation.

When stripped of her mayoral obligations, and not trying to be too uptight or too dignified, too politiciany, Regina had unleashed a remarkable, skilled speech filled with warmth, humor and wit that left the room wheezing with laughter at times, and clapping at others. In parts it was a beautifully worded tribute to both Archie and Emma, and it had clearly been worked on for many hours.

Emma wondered if that's where she'd disappeared to on her 'errands'? Some secret little writer's spot to pen the most erudite speech Emma had ever heard in her life?

The sheriff had never been prouder - or more transfixed. A long and uproarious ovation interrupted her thoughts - and Regina's flow - and she was startled given it was completely spontaneous. She looked around amidst the cheers, disconcerted that this was the same woman the town's residents had, at various times, told her was cold and unlikable, aloof, unfriendly, and prone to vicious retribution when crossed. Emma personally had experienced all those nastier traits and worse.

This same woman at that very moment held everyone in the palm of her hand. Emma glanced at the expression on Mary Margaret's face - and the shock reflected there proved it wasn't just Emma who was astonished by the enormity of the change - both in the former politician and the people she had once governed.

Henry's face, though, told a different story. He was watching everything closely as if it was the most important moment _ever_. He seemed to be trying to memorize, to actually freeze, this one moment in time.

Before she could puzzle over that, Regina finished up her speech in a most unnerving way. Emma couldn't initially put her finger on exactly what had happened, or why a prickle suddenly shot up her spine. Actually, she might not have realised anything at all was amiss if she hadn't happened to be facing Gold at the time.

The insufferable pawn broker had arrived late with Belle and appeared bored beyond belief, attending under sufferance, no doubt. His girlfriend seemed happy enough and was laughing with Ruby on the other side of the room.

"I never got a reception like this when I was mayor," Regina was continuing with a hint of a smile, after the applause died down. "I might have retired sooner if I'd known this was the send-off you were going to give me." More people laughed.

The former mayor swallowed. "I am well aware I have not been the easiest person to like," she said quietly and flicked her eyes to Henry and then the rest of the room. "The truth is, I was never taught any other way. And I-I ... regret that."

Emma felt a tickle curling around at the back of her brain and she frowned in confusion.

_What the hell? Regina never talked like this._

The mayor adopted an amused expression. "The fact some of you liked me anyway is something of a mystery to me," she joked, providing a coy, self-deprecating smile. Her eye fell on Kathryn and Regina's smile curved faintly wider. "But I suspect since I probably won't ever get a reception like this again, it's probably most wise for me to go out on a high note."

There was more laughter, and then the timber of her voice changed. She paused a microsecond, looked directly at Gold, and added, her voice barely steady, "but if tomorrow was to be my last day on earth, at least I could leave you all with a wonderful mayor and an exceptional sheriff, and buoyed by the knowledge that for once I made absolutely all my constituents happy. Thank you, Storybrooke. And let's have a round of applause for Mayor Hopper and Sheriff Swan! Thank you! Goodbye!"

The jubilant words were almost drowned by more applause, but the speaker's brown eyes were sharp and pinned to Gold's. The man's eyes lit up like Christmas tree lights and virtually glittered. A jubilation Emma had never witnessed before suffused his features, his hand clenching the handle on his walking stick, as if to prevent himself from punching the air.

Immediately, he'd collected a reluctant Belle and exited the diner, briskly tapping his way down the street.

Emma felt a strange sense of foreboding watching him go, even as the party erupted once more and the jukebox pounded out a new song. The voices, the faces faded into the background as Emma worried over her lover's odd choice of words.

_Regina had said goodbye. Not goodnight, goodbye. And the last day on earth thing? Why say tomorrow? Not tonight?_

That was when Gold had virtually vibrated with excitement. Emma's frown deepened and a sick fear squirmed in her stomach.

Regina jumped off her makeshift stage of two sturdy apple crates and returned to her side. Emma wrapped an arm around her for a quick hug. "You give good speeches, Madam Mayor," she said with a forced grin.

"Not anymore," Regina replied. "That was my last one - ever."

And if Emma noticed there seemed something off in the way she'd said that, too, she chose not to comment.

The blonde accepted a beer from Leroy who was helping Ruby out tonight - foxes in hen houses came to mind - and tried to force her brain to rejoin in the party. But her worried eyes never left Regina for the rest of the night.

Neither did Henry's, come to think of it. She chose not to comment on that, either.

* * *

SUNDAY - MORNING

There was a flush, the sound of a running tap, and the en-suite door opened. Emma noted the brunette had slipped on a midnight-blue satin robe but hadn't bothered to knot it in the middle. A revealing slice of naked flesh, from neck to knees, greeted Emma, who simply gaped.

Regina observed her through hooded eyes and gave a small knowing smile, leaned against the door frame, much the same way as she had those weeks ago in Boston, looking cocky and beautiful and irresistible.

Emma felt a familiar stirring and licked her lips as she took her fill.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of that reaction, dear," Regina said softly, before finally tying up her robe.

"Yeah, uh, fairly sure I'll never get tired of seeing what prompted it."

The former mayor gave a low chuckle. "Mmm, you are exceedingly good for my self esteem," she declared and padded back to their bed.

She slid under the sheets and Emma's hand immediately wormed its way underneath her robe, to stroke her bare breast. "Correction," the blonde whispered as she weighed and fondled the softness beneath her fingers, "I definitely _know_ I'll never get tired of seeing this."

Regina's smile in response was dazzling. The brunette cleared her throat and then continued casually. "By the way I was talking to Miss Blanchard at the party last night."

Emma lifted an eyebrow. "Your mortal enemy and you had a little chat?"

" 'Mortal enemy', now is it?"

"You tell me. Well you certainly hated her guts when I was last in Storybrooke."

"If you say so," Regina said serenely as though the mere idea of her hating anyone was utterly ridiculous.

Emma laughed at her blatantly fake angelic expression and jabbed her gently in the ribs. "Yeah, right. OK, so and ..."

"Well Miss Blanchard would simply love to have you over for dinner tonight. And, in the interests of everyone not suffering needlessly with food poisoning, I am even volunteering to supply the lasagne."

Emma sat up and peered at her. "OK, first, rude much?"

Regina offered an amused look. "Force of habit, dear."

"Mmm. OK, second, since when do we go for dinner at Mary Margaret's place?"

"Oh, I'm not going - I thought that was implied. I'm merely catering the edible portion of the meal that you're bringing."

"Ha, you're hilarious," Emma said and rolled her eyes. "Mary Margaret isn't a bad cook, you know. I'm the one who can't boil an egg."

Regina ignored her and her smile grew even more amused as she added: "Oh and you might want to pack your sorry excuse for pajamas. Your old roommate thought it would be - and I quote - 'so wonderful' if you stayed the night. Both of them did. I think Mr Nolan has some groundbreaking idea of driving you into work tomorrow and reacquainting you with all those tricky law-enforcement ropes. He is your deputy sheriff, after all."

Emma scowled. "This is ridiculous. I'm sure I can remember the 'ropes' just fine."

"And what of Miss Blanchard? Obviously if you stay over, you don't have to count your drinks and you can stay up half the night catching up. You have neglected your closest friend for long enough, or so she tells me."

"I... what? She said that?"

"In not so many words."

"Come on, Regina, you know I'd rather be with you tonight."

"Well yes, and I, you, but as much as it pains me to say it, Miss Blanchard did raise some excellent points. Dr Hopper also seems to think it is healthy to keep friends prominently in one's lives. Interdependency was our failing last time, if you recall," Regina said and she stopped. She hesitated. "I have no intention of reverting back to _that_ disastrous state of affairs."

"Shit, Regina, you're actually pulling the mental-health card on me? Do I even get a say in this?"

"Certainly. What's your wine preference for the evening?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me? Sick of me already?" The hurt in Emma's face must have been showing because the amusement fell away and Regina leaned in closer.

"Dear, if there is an opposite to that sentence, then that is what I feel for you. I cannot get enough of you. But I am also the first to acknowledge I have been monopolizing a ridiculous amount of your time. Miss Blanchard is, regrettably, quite correct. And it is just one night."

"One night." Emma peered at Regina, trying to judge the sincerity in her words. She sensed she was hiding something. But even so, brown eyes shone steadily as she regarded her lover. "Hmm," Emma added. "And what will you be doing during your night off?"

"I haven't decided yet," Regina said blandly. "Perhaps contemplating how much I miss you and all the various ways I plan to show you exactly how much the next time we're together."

Emma eyed her peevishly for a moment and then shrugged. "Meh, OK, but if I have to listen to David and Mary Margaret going at it like squirrels in heat at 2am, I'm climbing out my window, shimmying down the latticework and sprinting back home to you. Or crawling - depending on how much booze I get in me."

Regina's eyebrows shot up. "Home,'' she whispered. "You think of this as home now?"

Emma's cheeks reddened. "Uh." She bit her lower lip. "Yeah, I guess I sort of do. Well if you were camped under a rock on the edge of town, that'd be home for me, too. Cos, um, you know, home is where the heart is and all that."

She blushed faintly in embarrassment. _God, could she sound more lovesick if she tried?_

The brunette's arms came up around her and pulled her tightly. "Yes. Well then, if you ask me very nicely, I might even shimmy up that latticework myself much later tonight to keep you company for a few hours after your teacher is all talked out and has gone to bed."

Emma's eyes lit up for a second before she remembered who she was talking to. "Yeah - I can just see you doing that," she scoffed. "You'd never risk a shinned calf or broken heel on scrabbling up some dirty old wall."

Regina narrowed her eyes playfully. "Oh really, my dear? You think you know me so well."

"Well yeah. You ARE the infamous Mayor Mills."

"Not any more."

There was a silence as their breaths intermingled and Emma rested her head on Regina's chest between her soft breasts.

"True," Emma said quietly. "So what ARE you going to do now with your days?"

She felt a hand come up to pet her hair, slowly stroking, "That depends."

"On?"

"Later, dear," Regina said, quietly. "It's too soon to know yet."

Emma glanced at the face just above hers and saw a confusion that she didn't often see.

_Huh. Regina really didn't seem to know._

"OK then," Emma agreed. "Later."

They held each other in silence for a while, the sun gently rising and splashing in through the French doors.

"Thanks for the party," Emma mumbled against Regina's chest. "Don't know why you guys bothered, but thanks for the sentiment."

She felt arms tighten around her. "You deserved it. And it was also a good way for everyone to find out who their new sheriff is."

"Ah, sneaky."

Regina snorted. "Just practical. Archie was as reluctant to have the party in his honor as you were for it to be in yours. So the compromise we made was that we call it his party but secretly throw it for you."

Emma laughed at that. "OK, that really is pretty dumb."

"Yes, I do agree. Everyone's simply far too humble," Regina drawled. She paused. "Even when you deserve all the attention and much more."

"Well I'm pretty sure you're biased," Emma said awkwardly. She felt fingers stroking her hair some more and found it calming.

"No dear," Regina said so quietly it was like a dancing leaf in the air. "You are beautiful and smart and an excellent sheriff. It IS what you deserve. You should be applauded and honored for your new role."

Emma heard the sincerity in her voice and smiled. "Says the woman who tried to put Sidney Glass in the same job ahead of me once," she added and grinned.

She felt a rumble under her cheek and realised Regina had just laughed. "Well, dear, no one's perfect."

* * *

SUNDAY - ONE HOUR BEFORE SUNSET

Emma decided before she hit Mary Margaret's that she should at least pay passing attention to the fact she would become sheriff tomorrow. She should probably make a list of stuff she had to do, like get the keys to the cruiser, and find out the new combo for the gun safe, and find out who had the cell key.

She was sorely tempted to distract herself with more amazing sex with Regina, but the other woman had disappeared a few hours ago, off for a ride with Henry.

Emma entered Regina's guest room where she'd dumped all of her stuff when she'd first begun sleeping over. Technically it was still her room but she spent most of her time in Regina's now.

She knew she had a notebook in here somewhere. In fact she'd left it at the library on Monday and Belle had thoughtfully dropped it around the next day. The other woman had seemed almost disappointed that she hadn't even so much as glanced at it.

She'd flung the book in the spare room without another thought. But, naturally, like most things carelessly flung, Emma had a bit of a task finding it again. She finally turned it up under her bed, upside-down, next to her old running shoes, its pages fanned out and bent out of shape.

She snagged it and sat up on her haunches, and tried to flatten it again. A rogue, loose page fell out.

Emma picked it up, unfolded an A3 piece of paper that definitely did not belong in the notepad, and stared. Her first instinct was the feeling she'd glimpsed this page somewhere before. Then she knew.

_Oh shit._

It was a printout of The Mirror's front page from a day in 1986. She peered at the date, a sinking feeling coiling in her gut. Of course. June 21, 1986. The exact issue Gold - via Belle - had been desperately trying to get her to see.

_For God's sake, did the man have no shame?_

Her outrage at his skullduggery which had just forced her to break a promise to Regina filled her with rage. And then her eyes fully focused on the page. Try as she might, she couldn't drag them away. She blinked and stared again at what seemed impossible.

The headline was huge: "Mayor's 30th birthday party" Below it was a subheading: "Who's who of Storybrooke attends. Details and exclusive photos inside."

The main photo showed a woman, unmistakably Regina Mills, in a classy evening dress, a Cheshire cat smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and looking almost exactly the same age as she did now.

In the photo's background she could recognise faces of residents who, equally, appeared frozen in time. Archie, Gold, Whale, Eugenia. Looking not a day older than they appeared now.

She frowned. Was it possible the date was wrong on the paper? _That had to be it. Maybe this was from five years ago, not almost 30?_

Then her eye fell to a second story. All about how Eugenia Lucas had just hired her granddaughter for the diner. "Business is booming," the story quoted her as saying. "I can't imagine a better assistant to help run my diner and bed and breakfast."

Emma knew for a fact Ruby had been waitressing for a long, long, loooong time. Years and years. She'd told her so, with a weary, eternally-suffering sigh, every single girls' night out.

This, none of this, made any sense.

_Unless..._

Her hand shook as she crumpled the page into her fist and strode off to the kitchen. She needed beers, and lots of them, if she was going to consider the "unless" theory.

Ten minutes later she was ensconced on the balcony, chugging back some amber fluid and glaring at the crumpled page she'd flattened out again beside her.

Every now and then, between hearty gulps, she would try and understand how any of this could be true - how three decades could pass, and everyone in Storybrooke could look the same.

As she did so only one answer swam up to the forefront of her increasingly boozy consciousness.

_Damn Henry and his stupid, stupid book._

But each time she gave the preposterous idea even the faintest hint of oxygen, the air would shift and shimmer around her. Like something was trying to happen. Like she was on the precipice.

It was a fucking amazing party trick, Emma gave it that.

* * *

SUNDAY NIGHT - PRESENT

"There you are," Regina intoned, opening the balcony doors and stepping outside. It was almost dark, with the faintest crimson streaks scribbled across the sky. Emma was shivering in the cold, four empty bottles around her.

"You're going to be late, dear. I have just taken the lasagne out of the oven but you'd really better get moving if you want to be ready for Mary Margaret's dinner."

Emma gave a cold, wry laugh. "Yeah, cos _that's_ what's important."

Regina paused. "Why? Not in the mood for Miss Blanchard's special brand of bonding?" Her mouth quirked slightly until her eyes fell to the side of Emma. "Tell me you didn't drink all those?" Her heeled toe nudged one of the bottles.

"Someone had to."

Regina frowned. "Emma? What is it?"

Emma turned slightly bloodshot eyes up to her and blinked at her accusingly.

"Don't you think it's odd that, apart from Henry, no one in Storybrooke ever celebrates a birthday?"

"What?"

"Regina? Isn't that odd?"

"I... well, I'm sure people do."

Emma shook her head adamantly. "Can't remember being invited to Mary Margaret's or David's or Ruby's or Granny's or Kathryn's or anyone's since I've been here - this time or last time. Isn't that weird? I know that's weird."

Regina slid down the wall and crouched beside Emma, eyeing her cautiously. "What's brought this on? Are you feeling alright?"

Her eye fell to a crumpled piece of paper and she snatched it. She glanced up at Emma, her outrage warring with concern and fear.

"You went back to the library?" she demanded, her voice chilling. "After you promised you wouldn't?"

"Belle brought my notebook around on Tuesday," Emma said slowly, trying to organise her thoughts coherently. "I'd left it at the library Monday. Course I didn't realise she and Gold had, um, 'value-added' its contents until today when I needed a notebook."

She waved her hand over the picture. "You do age well, though. Everyone does. It's a freaking miracle. Let me guess: Monthly juice cleanses."

"Emma, I..."

"Please tell me you have a logical explanation for this?" She turned her eyes on brown and pleaded. Her eyes were filled with desperation. " _Please_."

Regina licked her lips and glanced down. "I was going to explain all this very soon. But I suppose now is as good a time as any. If you want to?"

She sighed heavily and ran a shaky hand through her hair. Regina knew her lack of denial over any of it couldn't possibly have been missed by Emma.

The blonde was no longer looking at her. Emma had a distant stare fixed on the night sky, a stark bleakness on her dimly lit features.

She waited for Emma to speak. An uncomfortably long silence dragged out between them. Regina felt herself shiver and wished she'd brought out a warmer jacket.

Emma slowly turned back and gazed at Regina and the mayor saw her green eyes were red-rimmed and wet. The sheriff lifted her hand towards the brunette's face and waved it in front of it.

"Did you see that? It shimmers."

Regina shook her head in confusion. "I don't see anything, dear."

"No," Emma sighed. "I guess you wouldn't."

"So. On the ... other issue. Where would you like me to start?" Regina asked, her voice tight. The hands in her lap were clenched and white. She hadn't planned it this way at all. Her heart was pounding anxiously.

Emma gave her a thin smile. "With me getting dressed and packing my overnight bag. For Mary Margaret's precious dinner."

" _Emma_. About all this..."

"It was a beautiful sunset tonight, didn't you think?" the blonde cut her off urgently.

"I...Yes. I suppose." Regina flicked her eyes to the now darkened skies.

"Yeah, beautiful. Like it's the last day on earth. Wouldn't you say?" Emma rose shakily to her feet, not waiting to a reply.

Regina recognised the phrase though and eyed her uncertainly. "Emma?" she tried again. She stood, too. "We should talk. About everything..."

The blonde almost robotically turned and stared at her with empty, green eyes. Even in the low light, Regina could finally see the dazed, shocked look dulling her expression.

_Oh._

Emma brushed a few unshed tears away with the back of her hand. "Really, was a beautiful sunset," she whispered again, and pushed past her lover.

She left the moon-lit balcony and entered the bedroom, and was soon swallowed up by the darkness.


	63. PRECIPICE

Regina sat on her bed and listened as Emma moved around downstairs. She heard lights snap on and later, snap off. She heard the teacher's car pull up. The front door opened, then shut quietly.

She was alone.

Regina headed downstairs to her secret vault behind her cider press and opened it with her spare key. Everything was ready. As painful as it was, she couldn't wait for Emma to be ready, too. There was just too much at stake.

She leaned against the wall, steadying herself for a moment, as a wave of sadness washed over her. It was so close to being over now. Not just the curse, but her relationship with Emma.

_Who could love an evil queen?_

Regina could feel her heart hammering away anxiously as she kept visualising those eyes. Dazed and empty.

She reached inside the safe and skimmed through its contents, withdrawing three items. Then she placed a note marked "Henry" inside, on top. It was just a thank you, but it was heartfelt. When he came to open it tomorrow, he'd be feeling afraid and sad. She wanted him to know how much she cared. And that she always had.

She closed and locked the safe and headed back upstairs. Regina did a slow tour around her empty house and tried to memorise everything that mattered. If she was being truthful, only the recent memories really resonated. Aside from raising Henry, much of the highlights of her three decades living here had come after Emma had arrived in a roar and rattle of a rusty yellow VW, and tossed her ordered life upside-down.

_It was time._

She set to work on her final preparations, and tried very hard not to think of the wide uncertain eyes of the woman she loved.

* * *

It was just after midnight when Regina pulled up outside Mary Margaret Blanchard's apartment building. She slipped around to the side of the building and pondered the infamous lattice work. Regina hadn't been kidding when she told Emma of her intended manner of arrival. She was hardly going to knock on the front door and wake the whole house.

Using the skeleton key had been an option she'd briefly considered only to dismiss once she recalled the teacher's absurd floor layout - specifically her bedroom without a door, which was well within earshot of the front entrance. She pursed her lips.  _Who lives like that?_

She had dressed specifically for her mission, in a pair of black jeans and a black turtleneck. Soft-soled, flat black shoes meant she'd be able to make short work of the climb.

She recalled Emma scoffing at her willingness to make the effort as she tested her weight on the lattice.  _Ridiculous_. She was hardly so easily cowed by a challenge, she told herself sternly, as she lifted her foot and edged it into the lowest diagonal gap.

By the time Regina had reached the window she had a slight sheen on her forehead. She wondered how Emma would greet her presence, despite the fact this rendezvous had been sort of pre-arranged.

After the shock and the beers had worn off, and Emma had time to think about who her lover really was, would she even be inclined to unlock the window?

She reached for the wooden frame, holding her breath.

The window was not locked.

Regina almost gasped in relief and pushed it up, then crawled over the sill with as much dignity as she could manage. She dusted herself down, closed the window and turned, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She could just make out a supine, shadowed figure lying on her side on the bed, facing the wall, lit only by moonlight.

"I wondered when you'd get here."

The tone was harsher than usual. Raspy.

"I had some things to take care of first," she countered softly.

"I can imagine."

The words sounded odd. Had she been crying? Guilt stabbed her. Before Regina could answer, Emma spoke again.

"How long do we have?"

Her voice was bleak now.

"Well, we have a lot to talk about," Regina began.

" _How. Long?_ "

Regina gazed sadly at the unmoving form. She felt the ridiculous urge to ram her fists in her pocket the way Emma often did.

She resisted.

"When I leave you tonight, it will be done."

Emma rolled over and faced her.

"Yeah. That's pretty much what I thought."

The blonde paused for a beat and then gave a derisive snort. "You know it didn't take long into dinner to work out that you'd made Mary Margaret think this entertainment and sleepover thing was all her idea."

Regina didn't bother denying it. "I wanted you to be safe, no matter what comes. And your pare... those two will protect you with their lives."

"And Henry? Why is he with Matt and Archie?"

"Truthfully? I couldn't think of a convincing reason as to why his school teacher would also want to host him for a sleepover here. But Matt and Archie kept offering to have him stay over. Archie is a good man, and Matt has a reputation that would keep anyone who would hurt Henry far away."

"So this was all to get us out of your house tonight?"

Regina sighed. "Partly. But, yes, it was a precaution. Who knows what angry mobs running around with torches might do to my home? In a few hours I won't be anyone's favorite person. I'd hate for either of you to get hurt because of the unfortunate fact of who you both live with."

Emma gave a low, unamused laugh at that. "The 'unfortunate fact of who I live with'," she repeated slowly, mockingly. "Nicely put." She cleared her throat. "You also made sure I was the sheriff, too," came the low voice, accusing. "Not immediately, I notice. I'm guessing that was so you could spend more time with me, but you had it all lined up for when the shit goes down."

"Yes," Regina admitted hoarsely. She took a step closer. "I won't apologize for ensuring your protection or shoring you up in a position of some power. But Emma ..."

"This is unfucking believable. You know that right? This is all completely absurd."

"I know." Regina said softly. "It is. And for you it ... it must be overwhelming." She took another step closer.

Emma flung her hands up. "I mean at one point tonight I suddenly realised who I might be having dinner with! I spent a lifetime as a bounty hunter to find them and... well, shit, here they are!"

She dropped her hands. Regina could see she'd now balled them into fists. The blonde shook her head. "I almost choked on my own tongue when I realized. Mary Margaret was  _this_  close to calling the paramedics. Christ, Regina! How can it be real?"

The brunette could hear the catch in her voice and her heart broke. "Emma," she whispered. " _Please_." What exactly she was begging for, she wasn't sure.

She took one final step until she was standing at the side of the bed. "Please," she whispered again, and this time she was close enough to see green, tear-stained eyes.

"I know  _what_  you are," Emma ground out and shook her head in what seemed to be loathing.  _Or was it self-loathing?_  "I know you are that dark, hateful woman in the pages of Henry's book. The woman who hurt people, cursed them, was cruel to them and ... and worse."

"And worse. Yes," Regina agreed in the faintest murmur.

Emma paused and sucked in a huge, aching breath. Tears were streaming down her face now and Regina couldn't bear to look. She bowed her head, stared at the floor and waited for the inevitable verbal blows: _I hate you. I don't want you. I could never want you. You disgust me._

_Oh, wouldn't that be the perfect irony? YDM._

Regina clenched her jaw as she fixed her eyes, virtually boring a hole in her shoes. It was funny, really. Her last execution, with a row of men armed with arrows, she'd faced that with complete contempt and threw their hate back in their faces. " _The bastards, how dare they judge her?"_ she'd thought. No weakness for her.

But this one? God, this execution, the pain would be unbearable. She would not survive it, she knew. She braced herself and wondered what her last words should be, before her heart was spat on and decisively, utterly, irrevocably crushed to dust.

"I'm so sorry," she said, surprising herself. And she realised it was true. Her last words were humble and she actually meant every word this time.

She could hear the ticking of the clock on Emma's wall. The harsh breathing. A sniffle. She waited, tensing for the most destructive blow of them all, as Emma again opened her mouth to finally pass judgment.

"I know what you are, Regina Mills. And yet I can't fucking stop loving you."

Regina's eyes sprung open, her head snapping back as if she'd been punched in the jaw. Her mind reeled.  _What?_

"What does that say about me?" Emma continued flatly, as though Regina hadn't moved a muscle. "Knowing all that? And yet I can't - I can't stop how I feel about you."

Green eyes slipped over to brown. Watery. Questioning. Sorrowful. Ashamed.

Regina's legs moved fast - she knew they must have because suddenly she was kneeling on the edge of the bed.

"Emma," she whispered urgently, "Please don't, please, please don't stop loving me." She murmured the words over and over, like a low, soft, monastic chant and lifted a hand towards her lover. Emma flinched away.

She dropped her hand to her thigh and picked absentmindedly at the ebony denim's seam.

"It says nothing about you beyond that you have the purest of hearts," Regina suggested softly. "It's proof of your humanity. You are truly remarkable. That you could love  _me_.''

"ARGH!'' Emma suddenly growled. "How can you possibly be HER?" She was peering into Regina's face as if trying to understand the secrets of the universe. "You look just the same as you did this morning when I never wanted to leave your arms. Just tell me that? How can you be that woman?"

"I'm not,'' Regina said quietly. "Not any more, at least. The strangest thing about being in love with someone is what it does to your heart. How it heals past pain, and thaws all the icy crevices. It profoundly changes you."

She saw her lover trembling and she hesitantly reached out once more, just as she had only that morning -  _had it really only been this morning?_  - and stroked the pale tresses. She relaxed when Emma let her and actually moved slightly towards her fingers.

"You  _love_  me?"

The voice was so doubtful that it broke Regina's heart.

"Emma," Regina sighed sadly.  _How could this not be obvious?_ "Did you know that there is only one truth in Henry's book, amid all its many half truths and monstrous lies. True love IS the most powerful magic of all."

"You love me." Emma changed her question to a shocked statement, tasting the words slowly, as if they were a distinctly alien concept.

Regina allowed a rueful smile and gave Emma's head a gentle, massaging caress.

"I didn't want to, of course. I wanted to hate you and rage at you for trying to steal away my son. I wanted to hurt you for all the confusion I felt whenever I was around you. I certainly didn't want to feel attraction for you. Hell, I hadn't even realised THAT was what I was feeling.

"So when you suddenly attacked me, I felt free to finally hate you completely. I could destroy and tear you down with impunity. No part of me could possibly object."

She swallowed and glanced at Emma who was listening intently.

"But it didn't work out like that. You have this light in you, Emma, a light that pulls me towards you. I fought and fought it. You responded to my rage and punishments with stoicism, strength, bravery and, later, kindness. You slept on my floor. You soothed away my nightmares. I utterly failed to hate you; and then I could no longer bear the thought of hurting you. But nor could I handle seeing you each day, casually breaking down all my walls. You terrified me.

"So I sent you away.

"I thought, then, that finally, finally I would be free of you. And yet still, your light, I felt it every day. I missed it with an intensity I could never imagine. I missed you so much it physically hurt. Then one day I-I realised I could just stop fighting.

"Why was I even fighting at all? It was Archie who asked me once whether I was so used to pain that I just assumed that was what life was? It was a revelation - this idea that I didn't HAVE to be miserable. So I went to find you. And when I did ..." she gave a soft, sad laugh, "well, dear, imagine my horror when I suddenly worked out that I couldn't even tell you how I felt."

Regina stopped. Her mouth felt dry.

"You  _still_  haven't told me how you feel. Not in so many words."

"I know." Regina ran her fingers through Emma's hair and stroked some more. She felt Emma suddenly turn to stare at her, her mouth dropping open.

"Oh god, I'm so freaking dense, aren't I?" she growled. "I only just realised: It all ends when you say it to me, doesn't it?

There was a dry cynical laugh and Regina frowned at the discordant sound.

"It's pretty funny really," Emma continued, agitated, "All this time I wondered if it was because I wasn't worthy of your love. Or maybe I didn't deserve to have you looking me in the eye and  _saying_  it. And it turns out ... Hell! To think I thought I wasn't worthy of YOU."

Regina stared at her in dismay. "I wanted to tell you, so many times."

She heard an irritated sigh. "I do actually believe you."

There was a silence as Regina listened to Emma's ragged breathing. "This really is hard to accept you know," the sheriff said, aggrieved.

"Mmm," Regina murmured in agreement. "And for the record, I never ever thought you were unworthy. You are beautiful, inside and out. I know that my own standing is ... um..."

"Worthless?" Emma suggested with a twisted grimace.

Regina paused and felt sick. "I suppose. Yes."

"I'm sorry," Emma said. "I... that was actually fucking cruel."

"Yes. But accurate. Emma? How can you ever doubt your worth as a person?"

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Do you ever feel bad? For all the evil shit that you did?"

"Every day. But I'm also a pragmatist, Emma. If I hadn't done what I did and made the awful decisions I made, I wouldn't have had Henry or ever known you. I know it's selfish. But I can't ever wish  _that_  never happened."

"You killed people."

Regina flinched. "Yes."

"You killed Graham?"

Regina said nothing and looked away.

"Oh god," came a sickened cry. "You did? I always wondered."

Regina swallowed. "Not on purpose," she murmured. "But there were others, others who were... on purpose."

"That is really, really fucked up, you know that right?" Emma demanded, eyes flashing.

"I know."

"Yet you haven't tried to justify it," Emma peered at her closely. "Why?"

"Because I agree with you. It IS unforgivable. Of course it's not worth justifying. And equally I know I don't deserve your love, even though it filled me with wonder every day I had it."

Emma fell silent.

Regina turned to face the window, and tried to blink back tears, not wanting Emma to think she was playing for sympathy. She'd been right all along.  _It would be over soon._

"Don't cry," came a voice, now considerably less angry.

"I'm not," she said sternly. "Don't be ridiculous. Evil Queens don't cry."

And just like that, she'd said the words they'd been skirting around all night.

Evil. Queen.

She felt Emma freeze for a long moment before the sheriff finally groaned, as if unwilling to believe what she was about to do. Regina felt hands lean forward and pull her against Emma's chest, pressing the wetness of her tears and cheek against the blonde's soft pajama jacket.

"This is still ridiculous," Emma mumbled into the tousled top of Regina's hair. "Caring for an evil queen."

"My title is somewhat out of date, dear. Even so, I am well aware I don't deserve your love." She bit her lip to hide the hurt she felt.

Then she heard wondrous words mumbled against her chest: "And yet you still have it. I think, maybe I feel you can't be her because I just can't imagine loving someone who could be so ..."

"Evil," Regina supplied flatly.

"Empty. So filled with darkness and hate."

"Yet I WAS her once."

"So was I."

"Emma?" Regina lifted her head in surprise at the pained admission.

"When I was in jail, in my darkest days, I was so, so angry with Henry's father that I wanted to kill him. I know that sounds like something you say to people, or shit you fling to sound tough or make a point. But I'm not so sure. I was so enraged the asshole deliberately let me take the fall, and that I was just dumped in that hole to have his kid.  _How could he?_  I was still virtually a kid myself."

"I never knew."

"Yeah. No one does. I was in the freaking black hole of Calcutta of dark moods."

"I still don't believe you'd ever have succumbed to your worst thoughts. You're not like that. You could never be like me."

"Shit, Regina, don't say stuff like that," Emma growled, uncertainty and doubt flitting across her face.

"It's the truth. Would you rather I fed you sugar-coated lies? I really was her. I crossed every line there was. Hurt or toyed with anyone and everyone I chose to. That is a fact."

She felt Emma pull away. "Stop it."

"No. You need to know this. It isn't pleasant. But neither is what happened to me. This is who I was, Emma," she said. She stopped and offered a wan smile. "I actually had a whole speech planned, explaining it all in bite-sized palatable detail but I wasn't sure you'd even want to hear it - or if you'd instead just toss me over the lattice work."

"You do have a violent imagination, don't you?"

Regina raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck," Emma rolled her eyes at herself. "Yeah, um, right. Evil Queen. Violence was your middle name. God, this isn't happening. You c-can't be her."

"I understand you wish to cling to denial, dear, but it will not change the truth. As you will discover in a few hours when the residents of Storybrooke all gather to share their bitter war stories about their former evil overlord."

"Why do you have to break the curse?" Emma suddenly spat, almost angrily. "Why fuck up everything?"

"The curse is already starting to slowly break down now. Things are no longer seamlessly adjusting now time has restarted. You are, so far, the only one able to perceive it - that shimmering effect you mentioned earlier is likely a symptom.

"But the curse was never really designed to last this long, I suspect. It has to break soon before Storybrooke and its inhabitants' memories start tearing themselves apart with paradoxes and conflicts. Time is now moving forward yet the curse is forcibly keeping events and memories frozen in place - it is an impossibility of physics, I'm sure."

"Yeah, well I'm sure  _this_  is in all the physics textbooks. You do realize this is all still fucking nuts."

"I do."

"I hate you for this. For making me care. For making me l-love you."

Regina hung her head. "I truly didn't ever mean to do that."

"I know," Emma sighed. "I have never seen anyone fight an attraction so hard and for so long. And with so much creatively directed anger."

"There's a fine line, I suppose, between love and hate."

"Yeah. So ... it, all of this, ends tonight." Emma's words were muffled against her hair again. She could still hear how defeated they sounded.

"It must."

"Are you going to turn yourself in? Will I be forced to arrest you in the morning? War crimes or something? Is that why I'm now sheriff?"

"And face lynch-mob justice when they tear off the jail door and come for me? Through you? Don't be ridiculous. I will not be subjected to that. And I will not place you in that position."

"They will probably want their pound of flesh."

"As I am well aware, dear. They do deserve justice. They  _will_  get their chance."

"Huh? So what will you do?"

"I have written you a letter, explaining everything. I wrote it when I thought you would not want to listen to my speech. Read it tomorrow, dear." Regina flicked a glance at the wall clock. "Well, today, really. But much later."

Emma exhaled heavily. "Regina, I ... Did you really have to turn out to be Her?"

Regina snorted. "Dear, I hardly planned to fall in ... to have feelings for the saviour, either."

"Say it, Regina."

"I can't yet. I'll have to leave when it is said."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Hold me closer."

Regina slid tighter into her arms and heard Emma whisper. "I want you to hear this: I hate that you were Her, with every fiber of my being."

"I know that."

"And I will also beat the fucking crap out of anyone who says you STILL are her."

Regina smiled broadly against Emma's chest. "You may rethink that strategy in the morning, dear. Blood lust is a powerful thing. So is remembering who took away your happy family."

Emma silenced her words with a short kiss against the top of her head that was both angry and adamant. "I hate you," she whispered fiercely. "For this. For everything. So much. Just when I was starting to feel happy and could see a future with us. And like I said, I also can't stop ... " She faded out, her voice wobbling. She shook her head.

Their eyes met and Regina knew what was left unsaid in shimmering green eyes.

"I love you, too, Emma, with everything I am. I love you so much. Now and forever."

She leaned up and kissed her lips softly, expressing all the emotions she felt for her lover.

Instantly the world tilted on its axis. Regina sagged. She felt it like a gun shot.

"You said it," Emma said quietly, awed. Then she blinked as if realizing something else. Her hand came up and she waved at the air in front of her. "It's broken. There're no more shimmers."

Regina stared at her for a moment, barely able to remember her own name, so thick was the rush of emotions crowding in on her. A hole in her heart, once huge and gaping when the curse was first cast, and now a pinprick since she'd started loving Emma, completely closed.

She felt everything, every feeling there was to feel, like a cascading waterfall of hates and desires, hopes and fears. And love. So much love. For Henry, for Emma, for her father, Daniel, childhood friends. She gasped. There was so much love in this world. How had she never felt it?

She was rocked to the core and trembled violently. Regina felt hands come up, soothing her, across her back, calming her tremors. Eventually the blonde spoke and with the strangest tone.

"You should probably take a look at the view outside."

_The view?_

She turned to the window. They both watched with a sick fascination as creeping purple tendrils swirled past the glass. It was hypnotic. They both stared in silence, losing track of time. It felt like hours, though Regina knew that was ridiculous.

Her phone suddenly vibrated, shattering the quiet.

"Guess that's your cue," Emma said in resignation.

Regina nodded but continued to eye her quietly as she reached for her cell. She peered at the screen and rose quickly.

She pulled a letter out of her back pocket and placed it on Emma's beside table. She paused, bent over and softly ran her fingers down the side of Emma's face, relieved when she didn't pull away. "For later," she said, repeating her earlier instructions, and saw Emma nod morosely.

As Regina moved back to the window, hefting its wooden frame up, she could see the text message in her mind's eye. It had only three words.

"Well done, dearie."

She swiftly exited, and did not look back.


	64. CONFESSIONS OF AN EVIL QUEEN

Emma had achieved no sleep since Regina left and by 5am, after hours of fitful tossing and turning, could take no more. She snapped on her lamp and fumbled for the letter. She tore open the envelope and read with a mix of dread, fear and longing.

She wanted answers, she truly did. But she had seen enough of Regina's nightmares up close to know the truth would be terrifying and gruelling.

Her heart was beating a loud, staccato rhythm by the time she got past "Dear Emma".

"By now the curse is broken, you know who I am, who your parents are, and that the town you are in is nothing more than an artificial construct. In the coming days, people will tell you that I callously cursed them all. What an evil monster I am. And probably how you should never think of me again if you know what's good for you.

But they will never once tell you why, let alone  _how_  it happened. Because none of them know, except for one, and he will have already left town as I write this.

Before I explain the why and the how, you are probably wondering where I have gone.

Do you remember that day at my home when you were so angry that I had made overtures to Sidney in prison in order to get information from him? You did not want him to have even the briefest moment of satisfaction in believing I had forgiven him, even if it was a highly effective ruse.

I believe I called your short-term approach to life 'caveman basic'. You are who you are and I am well aware you will not have changed your thinking since then. So I have no doubt that you'd want me to stare down my accusers today, have me shout until I'm hoarse that I'm 'not the Evil Queen anymore' and reel off all the wondrous benefits that come with being in a modern, 21st century town. Am I correct?"

Emma sucked in a breath.  _Yes_. That is exactly what she would have done. Confront the stirrers head-on and remind the ingrates of some cold, hard facts. Like 'Hello penicillin, running water, electricity and flushing toilets'. They could probably all use a wake-up call. She glared at the letter in irritation. You'd have to be nuts to complain about being whisked away to a modern, more just, civilised world.

"Well, no, dear, that's not a smart plan, no matter how personally satisfying you might find it to knock a few heads together. Try and think of the long game. I know these people, Emma, and they will be out for blood. There will be rage. There will be revulsion. And I have no doubt there will be many calls for my execution. It will be confronting and messy and confusing.

If we follow your plan, then you, as sheriff, would be put in the invidious position of having to protect me, and quite possibly, kill these people, some of whom until yesterday were your friends. And I speak from personal experience when I say killing leaves a stain you can never wash away, no matter how many times you wish it were so.

If you're thinking "lovable" friends like Leroy or Ruby or Eugenia could never turn into armed vigilantes and will calmly want to sit down and sweetly discuss things, then I say again, you do not know who they are nor what they are capable of.

Eugenia Lucas is a fearsome and skilled proponent of the crossbow. Leroy is a knuckle-dragging hothead who will bay for blood. And Ruby, well dear, you should probably ask her yourself what her bloodthirsty secret is. I'm not the only one with a blood-stained past.

And before you recoil in horror with your outraged, modern sensibilities, do not judge them. This is who they are; who I am. Underneath, we are all from a different time, where feudal wars, survival of the fittest and orchestrated killings are commonplace.

Your own sweet mother - a skilled huntress with the bow I might add - would think nothing of ordering an assassination if she believed it was for the good of the entire kingdom. And no one, least of all me, would condemn her for it. It is sound political planning where we're from.

My point is, to go forward, and to possibly even survive this impending rage of the masses, one must be strategic, dear.

So, where am I? Not in the line of fire, that's where. I have made arrangements to remove myself for the next four months in order that I may return once the initial fury and blood-lust has died down. At that point I will surrender myself and face Storybrooke's final verdict - but not a moment before.

By the time you read this I will have left a detailed packet of instructions and recommendations with Mayor Hopper as to how this can be accomplished. I think he will agree with my suggestions because - and this will likely shock everyone given my infamous reign - I thought long and hard about how to make it fair so that all my former subjects might have their voices heard.

Ironic to hear that from a former evil queen, isn't it? I've learned some startling new ideas thanks to living in this world with its intriguing concepts of democratic governance.

I digress. I'm not fooling myself, Emma, and you shouldn't either: those who will judge me come from a fairly barbaric, harsh place despite the benign and saccharine twaddle about fairytales this world has been fed. Your friends may well decide I should be executed. And if that is so, I will accede to their wishes. It's not as though I don't deserve it. I refer you to my other letter, See: Appendix A ..."

Emma frowned and shuffled through the sheets until she indeed found one marked "Appendix A - Confessions". And there, in a neatly ordered, bullet-point format as befitting a thirty-year veteran of bureacracy, lay a list of all the crimes perpetrated by one Regina Mills. It had been written without emotion or justifications or personal embellishment at all, prompting Emma to think it was intended to be submitted to Archie and others as part of some form of official proceeding.

It was a long list, containing sixteen, stark and awful points. Emma's face twisted as she scanned it, stopping and choking a few times.

She put the page to one side and shook her head in disbelief.  _Oh fuck. Just ... Fuck. Just..._

She wondered what had happened to stop Regina's repeat ... offending. (Was there even a word for her particular brand of crimes?) Admittedly almost all had occured in the old world. But not all had.

Emma realised, based on the details outlined in Appendix A, that all her outright "evil" acts (as distinct from mere bitchy ones) had ceased completely around the time Emma and Regina had begun interacting with each other closely. It was when they had started to get into each other's faces far more often. And, not long after that, there had come that awful day on the staircase.

The sheriff had become the mayor's whole, sole focus from that day on. In some sick and twisted way, Emma had apparently (and entirely unknowingly) completely broken the evil queen, in every way.

And since then she had stayed broken, and later, completely changed herself.

Emma felt queasy as her eyes flicked back to the list. No wonder Regina had been shocked anyone could love her. Part of Emma fervently wished she could unread these things. She turned the sheet over so she wouldn't have to look at it any more.

She picked up the original letter, now immensely fearful as to what else she might learn.

"So, as you can see, dear, I do deserve their hatred. Saying I'm sorry, even if it is accurate, is far from sufficient. Saying I didn't mean to kill Graham - well, I'm sure the jails worldwide are filled with people who 'didn't mean to do it'.

I know my sins, Emma, all too well in fact, and I am ashamed of them all - except for one. I do not shirk from what the net result of all this means. I know my likely fate. I'm willing to do this, and accept their judgment, not because I'm forced to, but because it is the right thing to do.

And if, despite all you have just read, you decide you want to tear around Storybrooke looking for me, I ask, instead, you respect my wishes for distance until the worst has passed, for your protection and mine.

Perhaps you could use the time to get to know the real people behind the faces in Storybrooke. Starting with your mother?

You've often asked why I did not like her. Mortal enemies you called us? That was uncannily true. Snow betrayed me. That act left in its wake such long-lasting, unbearable pain that I often wished the entire world could taste my agony, just so they'd know how it felt.

The damage was done the first day we met, and she loved me, as only a child can, on first sight. She was 12 and I was almost 18, and fiercely in love with our stable boy, Daniel. And in less than a week, the child would not only be the catalyst for the death of Daniel at my mother's hand, but she would virtually kill me, too.

Snow White's desire to keep me in her life - as some blissfully ignorant reward for saving hers - was to have me shackled in royal matrimony to her disgusting, decrepit creature of a father. A man who knew me to be entirely miserable with the arrangement and who each night thought a terrified young woman's consent was surplus to requirements.

His attentions grew only more brutal when my belly stubbornly refused to produce him children. God only knows why he wanted another when his darling daughter seemed more than enough to please him. Especially given she reminded him so much of his "perfect" first wife - a fact he liked to mention to me on a regular basis.

By the fifth month of my unholy matrimony he'd taken to drinking heavily, I suspect so he could call out her name during the act without guilt or shame, as I clenched my eyes shut in repulsion.

Have you ever wondered what hell is like, dear? I don't have to wonder. I was wed to your grandfather.

For the record: King Leopold is the only one out of all of them that I remain delighted to have had killed."

Emma's hands shook for a moment as she considered the hatred coming off the page in waves. She tried to imagine a young woman, no older than herself when she'd met Neal, forced to marry a powerful old king. Forced to do everything a wife would and in a place and time when she would have no right to say no, no escape, no hope.

_The bastard._

She wondered whether Mary Margaret knew the truth about her father or his second marriage?

Her eyes returned to the letter, and she turned the page over. She read with growing horror about how the evil part of the 'evil queen' was fostered. The ongoing cruelty of her mother, Cora, dressed up as love. The meddling, scheming and manipulations of the man Emma had known as Gold. The lack of intervention by a weak father who Regina nonetheless loved.

And then her father's killing.

Emma could actually see the agony in Regina's words, spelt out in a shaking hand. So different from her stark, empty facts, neatly typed up in Appendix A for public edification.

"I think I went to Hell that day, the day he died, and didn't leave it for decades. He loved me, Emma, and I killed him because of it. I looked into his pleading, burning, brown eyes so like my own, and he knew what I was going to do. He was too weak to stop Mother from hurting me over the years. And he was too weak to even argue when I told him I planned to kill him. His heavy, silent sorrow when he looked me in the eye as I did it - I can never, ever forget it.

"I didn't cry for him, though. I was horrified by myself, by how despicably low I was prepared to go, but I didn't weep. I knew all too well the unspoken rule: Evil Queens don't cry."

Emma flung the letter down with a sob, unable to continue, and headed for the shower. She needed a break. The unrelenting horrors, one after another, visited on and by Regina, were too disturbing.

The stream of hot water hit her face, hiding her tears, and Emma leaned against the glass, her mind racing. It was too much. So overwhelming. She turned around and let the water pound her back for awhile before turning up the water to scorching.

She could well understand why Regina had come by her villainous reputation. It was earned. Oh my God, how it was earned.

She turned off the tap with a tired sigh, towelled off, dressed, and crept back upstairs, relieved to hear no sign of movement yet from the downstairs bedroom.

My Evil Years - Regina's ever-so-helpful subheading - were detailed on the next page and these were not misnamed. Emma felt quite literally sick as she read of a genocide in one village - despite the scribbled note in the margin that her royal guards had 'gone farther than she'd intended' - as if that made it better.

She read on and then had to pause in shock and close her eyes.  _Was anyone she knew in this stupid fake town without some horrible character stain?_

Emma had always had a soft spot for Graham. He was sweet, like some dumb puppy dog who'd follow you around and chew your slippers in a misplaced act of devotion. She therefore could not fathom how anyone, let alone him, could cold-bloodedly agree to up and kill an innocent young woman. And not just any woman - a princess who all the people in the land loved.

He'd just said OK? Sure, Regina, save my wolves and I'll do it?

_What the hell?_

_Fuck that. What next? Her parents were killers, too?_

For all she knew everyone around her was a bunch of medieval-era assholes who murdered without conscience.

The handwriting turned increasingly shaky in the next paragraph and Emma wondered if it was regret or just tiredness after pages of harrowing testimonials. Regina had moved on to outlining her huntsman's punishment for defying his queen.

"I was furious with him. I sent him to my bedchambers and later took pleasure in breaking him. In every way imaginable."

Emma stared at the page, unblinkingly, sick to her stomach. The day Regina had forced her to don a maid's outfit and clean her stairs, she'd hissed in her ear "I'm no rapist".

Except she was. She actually really was.

Emma wondered if maybe this was some fucked-up fairytale-world thing again, where nothing is called by its real name. Rape over there apparently is called "punishment". Or, in Regina's case, "marriage".

Emma felt quite nauseous now. She forced herself to read on.

"I understand this confession means you will likely see me as a monster. And it will probably mean you no longer want to love me.

"But if you think I don't feel shame for what I did, you'd be wrong. Looking back, I can barely believe half the things I did. It is sickening. A mind mad with rage and grief is capable of vast cruelty it seems.

"As to whether I feel sorry for abusing and defiling the huntsman? Yes. Did I feel sorry at the time? No. I thought he deserved it for wilfully defying his queen. Loyalty was all that mattered to me by that point. I'd lost so much. My moral compass was completely broken. After what happened with Snow, I felt the worst, most unforgiveable crime against me was betrayal. I felt alone, vulnerable and angry. And everyone paid the price for my pain.

"So there it is. The life story of an evil queen. Now you know more about me than anyone alive. It is not a pretty story. Real life rarely is. Now you understand why I am who I am. And why everyone you know will, from today, ask you how you could ever want to be with someone like me. It is, really, a very fair question. I ask it of myself often."

Emma sighed as she lowered the letter.

Yes, now she knew everything. And she also understood why Regina was right when she said confronting the aggrieved townspeople would not work. Waving shiny, pretty, modern-day 21st century marvels under their noses would do nothing to salve their deep hurt.

What they needed was justice.

Regina was right - she knew her people. They would be very angry, very soon - and they would have every right to be.

Her eyes fell sadly back to the page.

"If you're still reading this, you're an even more remarkable woman than I gave you credit for," Regina concluded. "Strong and brave. I know I don't deserve you, or your love. I know, as of this minute, I have almost certainly lost both. I don't blame you at all.

"I may have lost your love, Emma dear, but you have mine, now and forever. That shall never change. I will see you again in four months. Please try not to do anything too stupid between now and then, like get yourself hurt or worse. Henry will need you if I am no longer around. I love you.

Yours always,

Regina.

PS. I enclose something that might be useful in the coming days - your secretary in Boston was most helpful in making the arrangements to deliver it to the border. I took care of the rest. It's at my house. Although why you are so fond of it remains a mystery. I guess there's no accounting for taste."

Emma upturned the envelope with a frown and a familiar car key fell into her hand, complete with her trusty VW's crappy old keyring.

Emma stared at the unexpectedly light-hearted conclusion to such a heart-rending letter that was part emotional confessional, part agonising self analysis, part cold, detatched police statement. Leave it to Regina to toss in a hint of amused whimsy to mess with Emma's head.

She stared at her car keys abstractly and wondered: Had there ever been a more maddening, puzzling, troubled, beautiful and dangerous woman on earth, than Regina Mills?

She sighed, and pulled a rueful face, rubbing her head tiredly. How ridiculous to even ask. A better question; the only question, really, was: How did she feel about her now?

 


	65. THE SAFE

Emma shoved Regina's confession letter in her pocket along with her car keys, and pulled on her running shoes. She drew the hoodie over her head and crept out of her bedroom. Her parents hadn't yet stirred... she paused. _Parents_. _Ha_ , she thought bleakly. _I have a matching set. And, oh yeah, they're Snow White and Prince Charming._ Her lip curled. _Right_. _Sure she did._

The fairytales sure left out the bit about how the heroes sacrificed their daughter to the horrors of the foster system for the greater good. Cos, yeah, that wasn't in the story's "PS" right after "And they lived happily ever after".

She scowled as she slipped outside and closed the front door quietly then jogged downstairs. She looked around curiously. The street was deserted. No one yet awake. Although the street cleaner, who should have been by already, hadn't showed.

Emma considered that. He'd probably woken up, remembered he actually belonged in a freaking fairytale forest, and had given his fake day job the two fingers. Emma couldn't blame him.

She wondered who he really was? Surreal didn't even begin to cover this line of thought. Every single person she knew - or thought she knew - had a whole other existence, identity and set of memories. Only Henry and Regina didn't. Well Regina had a whole other past but then she'd always known it.

 _Regina_.

Emma swallowed down the anxiety she felt rising at the image of dark brown eyes staring at her and set off towards the former mayor's place at a steady jog. She was conflicted and afraid to feel much of anything right now about the woman who'd swallowed her life and heart whole for two years. It was overwhelming to think she was also... _that_ woman.

As each foot struck the cold surface of the road, she glanced around and wondered what the street would look like in an hour, a day, a week. Would there be rioting? Chaos? Anarchy? Or would they all just go about their business, preferring their new lives. She briefly wondered if she should detour past her sheriff's office and collect her gun from the safe.

Her eye caught the start of Mifflin Street and all thoughts of work, duty and any other drearily responsible instincts immediately fled. She swallowed again as she got her first glimpse of the gleaming white house at the end of the road. _What would change? Would Regina be inside, right now? Packing for a new life?_ A sudden thought seized her. _What if someone had beaten her to it? Was she in danger?_

Her pace quickened and as she neared she sighed in relief to see it was still intact. No sign of intruders - windows and doors clear of rotten eggs, graffiti, Molotov cocktails or anything else the enraged post-cursed citizens of Storybrooke might dream up.

_A good start._

She almost stumbled when her eye dropped from the perfect white edifice to street level. Unbidden, a smile dusted her lips as the familiarity of her old yellow car made her ache inside.

By the time she reached it, she was grinning widely, all other thoughts gone, and digging excitedly around for her keys. She opened it and slid inside, inhaling deeply. The leather seats molded to her like a glove. The smell was ... _Huh_. The smell was of leather cleaner and Regina's faint perfume. Emma knew she'd driven it - actually driven it herself from the outskirts of town - but smelling the faintest hint of her on the seats, and the dashboard was surreal. It'd also been detailed and cleaned beautifully - Regina, again, most likely.

It was hard to reconcile the woman from the letter of confessions to one with such a loving, thoughtful touch. Emma's lips pursed. Guess you don't really know someone till you ... um, break their evil curse and read their Appendix A.

She rolled her eyes. It never got less ridiculous. Or chilling.

Emma glanced around. An envelope taped to her glove box with her name on it in Regina's careful looping handwriting caught her eye. As she reached for it she heard a bang from the direction of the house and her head snapped up.

The mansion's front door banged wide open and then crashed noisily against its frame.

_Shit. Someone was inside._

She stuffed the envelope in her jacket pocket, and lept from the car, slamming the door hurriedly as she raced towards the mansion steps. She cursed herself now for not having detoured past the station. Of all the days to be armed, Day One Post-Curse would probably be it.

She crept towards the front and peered past the door. It banged again and Emma started in shock.

She exhaled shakily when she understood the wind kept catching it. But that didn't explain why it was open in the first place. Someone had to be in there. Her heart sped up. She crept forward and silently shut the door and eyed the room slowly.

She knew Regina's home pretty well by now, and anything out of the ordinary would jump out at her. She smelt it first. A whiff of cheap aftershave. Definitely did not belong here. It also seemed familiar somehow.

Emma edged forward, glad for her rubber-soled running shoes providing her with silence, and did a room by room inspection. Nothing. Upstairs yielded the same result. She noted, with a scowl, Regina's clothes and favorite pillow and comforter were gone. As were two pictures of Henry and one of her.

Well. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised but it still made her heart clench to see the proof of desertion.

She crept back down the stairs, willing her loudly thudding heart to cut her some slack and relax for a minute. She reached the base of the staircase and stood stock still and just listened. Her nose twitched as she detected the aftershave again.

Finally she heard it: Muffled voices. From below.

She cocked her head to follow the noise. _Wait. Someone was in the cellar? What the hell was even down there?_ Regina had waved her hand one day in front of a door and muttered "cider press is in the cellar" and that was all she'd needed to know. She'd never inspected it.

She quietly opened the door and crept down the stairs. The voices grew louder and she immediately recognised all three. She sighed as she rounded the corner and took in the astonishing sight of three males arm-deep in Regina's safe.

"Is this a heist, boys?" she growled and put her hands on her hips in her most intimidating pose.

"EMMA!" Henry cried and ran over to her, giving her a hug. It'd only been a week since he'd left for the ranch but he was a sight for sore eyes.

Matt and Archie exchanged glances.

"Well?" Emma continued, unhappy at the invasion, regardless of the identities of the intruders. This was still Regina's place, for God's sake.

"Mom asked me to come," Henry rushed to explain. "It was to be my first job when the curse broke. Matt and Archie agreed to bring me."

Emma's eyes lifted and she glanced at the two men who both nodded uncomfortably. Henry retreated from her hold and dropped back to his knees in front of the safe.

"It's true," Archie said as he stood and slid his glasses off and gave them a nervous polish. "Regina gave me a list of suggested things to do, but top of it was to bring Henry here and empty out her safe."

He put his glasses back on his nose and flicked a look at his husband. Matt looked back at Emma unblinkingly, the only one of the trio who seemed like he might indeed be up to no good. In fact he looked exactly like a creepy movie henchman. Emma wondered if he'd remembered something of his past that gave him an extra foreboding. There was definitely something _more_ about his demeanor now.

Matt eyed her cautiously but shrugged his broad shoulders as if to say "What they said".

Emma's eyes fell to the safe, and watched as Henry scooped the contents into a bulging sack. She stared at what appeared to be piles and piles of envelopes. All with familiar looping handwriting.

Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of them. Not unlike the one now in her jacket pocket. Her hand reached inside to finger it thoughtfully, wondering if it was a private message or she should open it now.

She decided to stall first.

"What is all of this?" she asked, moving closer. She reached inside the safe and pulled out a fistful of the white envelopes. She glanced at the handwriting. _Yeah, definitely Regina's._ Addressed to various residents of Storybrooke.

_This must have taken her months._

"They're her sorrys," Henry said excitedly. "She's making up for her bad stuff, as much as she can."

Emma stared at her son. "I don't get it. How?"

Matt reached into his back pocket and pulled an envelope out with a strange name on it.

"Grigor?" Emma read aloud, her eyes flicking to it. "Your real name is Grigor?"

Archie swallowed anxiously and cleared his throat. "I think he'd prefer to go by Matt, actually. Grigor was an invented name."

"Wait a sec - I thought 'Matt' was the invented name, from the curse?" Emma asked, puzzled.

"Both are fake names," Matt rumbled. And this time there was no escaping the danger in his voice. "One name from an Evil Queen, one from a scheming troll. My original name is not who I am anymore either. So I choose 'Matt'. If the people will allow it."

Emma frowned again. " _If_ the people allow it? Why do they care what you're called or how you choose to live? Hell do any of them actually know you? I mean you're not famous in the old world or anything, right?" She gave a teasing grin that quickly fell away.

Matt and Archie both paled and Emma felt the tension ratchet up in the room. "Wait," she asked suspiciously, her dread rising, "Who ARE you?"

"I-I think we're getting off track," Archie hurriedly interjected and flicked a warning look at Emma directing her to Henry, and then back. "Matt, why don't you tell Emma what's in your envelope."

The big man gave her a level glare and then looked down at his paperwork.

"Deed to my property, signed from Gold over to me," he rumbled. "Plus a bank account which, if I chose to stay in Storybrooke would mean I could retire tomorrow if'in I wants to. Plus a personal letter 'pologising for her curse, saying this won't make up for it, but if I choose to stay, the least she can do is make it a luxurious life. And that's just _my_ letter. Some of them have more in them."

Archie nodded, eager to move on with the new conversation. "Regina told me that the parents in Storybrooke all have college funds set up for their children and all they have to do is contact her lawyer in Boston, um, Shania Woods, and the trust funds will be immediately activated. Along with living away from home expenses and other associated stipends."

"So..." Emma said slowly, "It's ... uh ... like her war reparations? That's good right?"

She looked anxiously at the two men, wondering why no one seemed particularly thrilled. Or moved.

"More like a bribe," Matt said quietly. "A pretty expensive one, true. But that's how they'll see it."

At Emma's shocked look, he lifted his meaty hand. "Not saying I see it that way. Personally I love my land and want to stay doing the work I do - that's what matters to me. But some will see this as blood money. Poisoned."

Archie nodded. "Many will, actually Emma."

"Would they rather she gave them nothing?" Emma spat. "Shit, this looks like months and months of work to pull together, not to mention the deals she had to do with Rumpel to get him to give up the leases on ... how many properties did he own in town anyway?"

Another silence. Finally the mayor cleared his throat.

"All of them," Archie said incredulously. "I found out Gold owned every last property except hers. Storybrooke is basically ten enormous land packages, subdivided hundreds of times over. And Regina somehow quietly got the deeds to every single one of them. By the time the curse broke, Gold was Storybrooke's landlord in name only. All the rents were being channeled to Regina's account via her Boston lawyer who then dispersed the funds into these accounts."

"Christ," Emma exhaled and sank to her haunches. "I don't even want to know how she did that. What she must have promised Gold."

She glanced at Archie. "How much money did she gift anyway? In total?"

He shrugged. "Many hundreds of millions. A sizable chunk came from all those rents. The rest will have been hers automatically since the day she enacted the curse. She cleaned out her own account to do this."

Matt shifted from one large boot to another. "But it's another reason the people won't think too much of it. It's just Regina's Monopoly money. Cost her nothing much."

Emma glanced at him. "It cost her whatever deal she had to make with Gold. Her thoughtfulness in setting this up so people won't have to worry about their futures also counts. And she's a proud woman. Getting a sorry from Regina is like pulling teeth. We all know it. The fact she's done it for the whole freaking town... It cost her something. It cost her plenty."

At that Archie smiled slightly and shook his head. "I admit," he began and then grinned a little wider, "That was the part of her gifts that I was most impressed by. She has come a long way."

Emma found herself nodding slowly. She glanced back at Matt who seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. If anything he looked like a storm was waging behind dark, brooding eyes.

"It won't matter," he muttered, catching her questioning expression. "None of it. They'll still be real angry."

A silence fell among the group as they considered that. Henry's face fell and he bit his lip. Archie looked at his feet and shuffled uncomfortably. Matt wasn't wrong. Emma's hand fell to Henry's shoulder. She glanced down and realised he had an opened letter clutched in his hand. "She wrote to you, too?"

He passed it up and nodded. "Yeah."

"May I?"

He nodded again. She read it to herself.

_"Dearest Henry,_

_Well the day you most wanted has happened. The curse has broken and everyone now knows you were right about me all along. I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am if I ever made you feel crazy or unloved over the years. Part of me was so very proud you figured it out even as I was afraid I would be parted from you should the curse break. Now that it has, I'm not afraid anymore. I know you have Emma and Matt and Archie and others you love to look out for you. You will be safe and you will not be alone. I love you with all my heart. And I always have. Never, ever forget that._

_Mom._

_PS I have left Emma with all the paperwork that will make her your guardian should anything happen to me. I thought that would make you happy. xxx"_

Emma's eyes slid to Henry's after reading the bittersweet last line. He blinked back at her. "She's wrong," he said earnestly. "It doesn't make me happy. I want you _both_."

And with that he wiped a big tear slipping down his face. "And I need you both," he added.

"I know, Kid," Emma murmured. She handed him a crumpled but clean tissue she found in her pocket. Her fingers brushed the envelope again and she pulled it out and opened it as she heard Henry blow his nose.

"The guardianship paperwork," she muttered to Matt and Archie who were watching her silently. "All I have to do is just sign." She gave a half hysterical laugh. "Like he's some lost package."

She pulled out a second piece of paper. "Bank account for Henry and me," she added, "college fund, and ownership of ..."

She rammed the paperwork back into the envelope and shook her head.

"Fuck it, Regina!"

"EMMA!'' Henry chastised her, askance.

Archie's equally condemning glower made the same objection without words.

"Uh, sorry," Emma reddened. "It's just she's given me the deed to her place." Emma waved her hand at the walls. "She's acting like she's dead or something. I mean, Christ, she's just bugged out for a few months. She _is_ coming back here to live."

Matt was the one who shook his head at her, half sympathetically, and Emma knew only too well what he was thinking but wouldn't say with Henry there.

She licked her lips which felt suddenly too dry. "She's not even going to defend herself to the people," Emma sighed, recalling her other letter. "Does _that_ sound like the Regina you know?"

Archie tilted his head. "With an acknowledgement of doing wrong to others, the right thing to do is to put yourself in their hands for judgment. She is doing just that. Giving them back their power and their justice."

He gave her a strange look, his eyes measuring her, and Emma was reminded he knew a lot more about what was planned - micromanaged probably - by Regina before she left.

"So what happens now?" she asked, her voice breaking, aware Henry's eyes had swiveled up to Archie's questioningly, too.

"First we distribute these letters and give people a choice as to their future. And then there's her trial in absentia."

Emma blinked. "First, what choice? Second, what trial?"

Archie eyed her closely and asked pleasantly. "Is there nothing else in your envelope but paperwork?"

Emma re-opened the envelope and looked down. At first nothing but paper rustled under her questing fingers. Then...

"Huh?" she stared.

"Mmm." Archie said. "You've found it then."

"What is it?"

"Come with me. You, too, Henry."

He walked them both to the far corner of the cellar, where a fair glow caught her attention.

She saw a screened off area with a faint purple light behind it.

"Go behind the screen," Archie said quietly and stood back while she did, taking her son by the hand.

Rows of glass terrariums lined the area, bursting with stalks. There were small bean-like pods on the plants.

"What?" Henry asked, eyes wide with wonder. "They look glowy!"

"She was growing beans?" Emma stared blankly. "What's the big deal? And why did she put a bean in my envelope?"

Archie walked to her side. "She put a bean in every adult's envelope. They're magic. She explained to me that she had once gone through her mother, Cora's, effects and discovered a rare white bean - a gift from a pirate that Cora apparently knew once. Although Regina suspected it was more likely stolen from him. Anyway, her mother's diary records that it creates a portal to whatever realm you picture when you throw it. So Regina planted it and grew this batch as a means for everyone to go home if they want to."

Emma was speechless. Henry's eyes were huge. "Magic beans!" he whispered.

"H-home?" she said at the same time. "But _this_ is home."

"Not for many people in this town," Archie said. "And this gift will mean more to them than any bank accounts, property deeds and college funds. It will mean a fresh start and a way to forget a life many of them never wanted."

Emma gaped. "Will they all want to leave? Will you and Matt? W-will ... my parents?"

"I don't know, Emma. But this is the means to come and go as we please. And that is a wonderful gift. She felt it was extremely important everyone got their own choice. She said she didn't want the powerful to ever stand in the way of an individual's dreams again."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"She never trusted leaders or governments to choose on behalf of others. She wanted people to each have their own choice, unlike the way she was always denied her own free path as a young woman. Her gift to her people is personal freedom."

"Oh. Wow." Emma swallowed, a little overwhelmed.

She sank to the floor and stared up at the glass and greenery. It seemed to glow faintly.

_Could this day seriously get any weirder._

There was a bang and then a crash from upstairs.

Emma jumped in fright, as did Archie and Henry.

"REGINA!" came a booming voice. "Come out and look the victims you cursed in the eye... you evil bitch."

Chants of "Evil Queen" could now be heard all around the house.

"Oh FUCK," Emma hissed.

And this time no one made a single murmur of protest.


	66. SWITZERLAND

**FIVE HOURS EARLIER**

Regina's feet hit the ground below the latticework under Emma's window and she exhaled heavily. She looked around at the purple swirls and her nostrils twitched. _Curious_. Magic came with a certain emotion and scent but right now she was smelling and sensing nothing. Still hidden in the shadows, she lifted a hand and tried her most basic spell - summoning a naked flame. She waited for the coursing sensation to flood her pores and then for the warmth to fill her cupped hand.

And waited.

She frowned and shook her hand, trying again, focusing hard. _Maybe she was rusty?_

She closed her eyes and pictured the flame - a gentle candle's flicker - and imagined its warm tendrils. She opened her eyes and stared disbelievingly at her still cool, empty hand.

The curse might be broken, but there apparently was no magic in Storybrooke.

_Well then._

She glanced at her watch and realised she'd better get a move on. Post-curse Storybrooke would be unpredictable, and she needed a good headstart.

She strode quickly around the corner to where she'd parked her Mercedes, only to stop cold. She was hemmed in by another vehicle which was parked obnoxiously, almost perpendicular to the road. Given there was a low wall at the rear of her car, she was going nowhere anytime soon. A man, clad in dark black leathers, was sitting on the hood of her car.

"A little late for visiting hour," she drawled and opened the door of her vehicle, glancing over to him. "Or stalking," she added with a colder edge. He didn't move. But his burning dark eyes tracked her unblinkingly.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you going to move or shall I ram your car while you're perched artfully on my hood? Either option is doable, dear." Her impatient statement was met with a soft growl.

"You have to fix it," he spat back. "NOW - before anyone else wakes up. Before _they_ wake up."

"Jefferson," Regina sighed, "I have already given you everything in my power. Last week I gave you knowledge, prior warning of my timetable, a bank account that will take you anywhere in this world. And your hat back, to take you anywhere in _your_ worlds..."

"The hat won't work. There's no magic here." He eyed her accusingly.

Regina sighed again, realising this might take a while and slammed her car door. She stalked around to the front of the car and crossed her arms, peering at him. He stared back menacingly.

"That was always a possibility," she said. "That's why I also gave you a bean. You can realm jump and then use your hat after you get there."

A thought struck and she frowned at him, puzzled, and then shook her head. "But you _already_ knew that. So why are you still here? _Really?_ "

He glanced towards his car and hesitated and Regina tracked the motion. A small huddled figure was asleep on the backseat.

"You _kidnapped_ her?" Regina hissed, outraged. "You're going to just take her without saying anything to her or her parents? They wake up and she's just gone and they're frightened out of their minds?!"

"They're only FAKE parents. YOU saw to that," he snapped. "You stole her from me and gave her to them. I'm only taking MY daughter back."

He glared at her for a long minute and finally Regina gave a knowing smile. "You seem very certain of that," she began.

He blinked at her but said nothing.

"So why are you still here if you have no doubt that this is the right thing to do? Hmm?"

His eyes narrowed.

Regina eyed him thoughtfully. "I did apologize in my letter. And I meant it, for what it's worth. I cannot undo my past, any more than you can take back toying with a young woman's desperation to revive her dead fiance."

At Jefferson's shocked look she gave a mirthless laugh. "Of course I figured it out. Did you never wonder _why_ I did this to you? I would have done it to the mad scientist and the scheming imp, too, if they'd also had offspring within my reach. You paid for all of them, for using my desperate, desperate hopes against me in my time of vulnerability. For playing me for the fool I so obviously was."

Her usual rolling wave of disgust passed through her as she recalled who she'd been and what they'd done to her. And how she'd wanted to make the manipulative trio pay tenfold. She steadied her breathing.

His mouth opened in outrage and she waved a hand dismissively, silencing him.

"But that was then - and I was considerably less ... evolved, I know. And before you pout prettily and tell me, yes, I am well aware the crime was not in proportion with your punishment, even though I certainly thought so at the time." She pursed her lips. "But as for you now? Stealing off into the night with that little girl does not make what happened to you right. It does not undo past wrongs. And you can't just go into denial about the inconvenient fact she has more than one set of parents now."

"Trust you to take their side. Fake parents allied. Big shock there."

Regina bit back her first response involving her verbally eviscerating him for daring to call her decade of raising Henry "fake".

_Fake! She'd done everything for him. Everything!_

" _They_ are not your enemy," she ground out. "They loved your girl like their own. For _three_ _decades_."

"And whose fault is that?" Jefferson slid off the hood and stepped menacingly inside her space. "She forgot me for that time because of you and now YOU need to fix it."

Regina's jaw worked as she smelled the adrenalin and bitterly acidic sweat of a man close to the edge.

"Fine. Tell me how," she said flatly. "If it's within my limited powers I'll consider it."

"Wipe Grace's memory of them."

"No. I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

"As you've already pointed out, dear, there's no magic here. So can't or won't – it doesn't matter."

He rolled his eyes. "But there's magic THERE. We take the bean and go together to the Enchanted Forest. All three of us. You wipe her memory of her Storybrooke life. All of this. Give her some fake ones of a happy life with me. Then Grace and I will go our own way and you leave us the hell alone - forever."

"A perfectly fine plan," Regina agreed placidly. His face lit up for a moment. "But I won't do it."

Jefferson bared his teeth. "Why. Not."

His hand lashed out and grabbed a fistful of her black turtleneck and jerked her close to him. Threatening.

Regina lifted an eyebrow and waited a beat. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? Because you're not doing a very good job. Plenty of uglier and nastier people than you have tried to terrify me. People I've been married to, for instance. You think you could hold a candle to the terrors of being helpless and wed to a controlling, cruel king?"

He swallowed and glanced away and for a split second she saw it.

Shame.

_He knew! He'd known Leopold's true nature all along. And he still left her to rot. The three of them had just played her for their own purposes and then walked away, leaving a powerless young girl alone, afraid and grieving._

_Bastards._

Her face twisted into a vicious smile as she slid her eyes deliberately slowly over his body, ending on the clenched hand still fisting her sweater. "Let's face it, dear: You don't have it in you, do you?" Her tone was dripping in condescension.

Jefferson gave a low howl but then pushed her away violently, raking his hands through his hair in despair. "Why?" he asked raggedly. "Why won't you do it?!"

"Because it's not your decision to make. Or mine. To rob a loving family and a little girl of years of memories and growth?" She tsked at him. "And they say _I'm_ the evil one."

For a moment a hint of uncertainty invaded his features.

"W-well you could change _their_ memories too..." he suggested and faded out, more unsure than ever. "They can't miss what they never knew."

A heavy silence settled between them. Regina glanced at the town's clock briefly and sighed internally. This was taking too long. But she couldn't go anywhere with Jefferson's car blocking hers. Time to expedite matters.

"I'll tell you what - I'm going away for a few months, and when I come back, if Paige..."

His head snapped up in outrage. She lifted a hand apologetically. "Pardon me, if GRACE, wishes it and tells me this is her desire, too, and it's been agreed by her other family to be for the best all around, then I will certainly grant your request."

He scowled at her. "You bitch. To put this decision on a little girl..."

"Daddy?" a small voice came from the back seat. "Is that you? I feel weird... And I think I had a really crazy dream."

Both adults' heads swiveled to look at Grace. Her eyes were unfocused and she was rubbing her face, trying to wake up.

Regina leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "The worst thing you can do is erase her existence from a family who loves her. Think of me whatever you will - and I agree what I did was profoundly cruel, but I made sure she was in a good and safe home when that curse was cast."

"That's supposed to make it all better? Make me think 'Oh, how thoughtful Regina was'?" He glared at her.

"I don't really care what you think of me, dear. But I do know you care about Grace or you would have run off with her long before tonight. You didn't - even though it hurt you, because you thought it was for the best - _for her._ And we both know you have serious doubts about your grand scheme tonight or you wouldn't have cornered me for this charming little chat."

"Why is the air purple?" came a small voice.

Jefferson swiveled his eyes back to his daughter. "It's fine, honey," he called out. "It's just a dream. You're going to wake up in your bed in a few hours and Daddy will be there and your other parents will be there and we'll all … um… talk about everything." His voice choked and his head sagged against his shoulders as if it was suddenly too heavy.

"Oh..." came the sleepy reply, Grace's merged memories clearly not finding it odd she now had more than one set of parents. "OK then."

He swallowed harshly and turned back to Regina. His said brokenly in a low tone: "I hate you. For all of this."

"I know," Regina said without inflection. She opened her Merc's door again and climbed inside. "If it makes you feel better, you'll be in an overwhelming majority today," she said caustically through the open door. "Now, dear, care to move your car?" She slammed the door shut.

Two minutes later, Regina was speeding away. In her rear vision mirror she saw a little girl in the back of Jefferson's car sit up and look towards her, staring in confused recognition.

* * *

**NINE HOURS LATER**

They were finally gone. All of them. The showdown on the steps of Regina's home was as inevitable as it was frustrating. Archie exhaled slowly and glanced to his left.

Matt gave him a look that spoke volumes. The tall man's eyes twinkled.

"You look 'bout done in. It ain't even much past 10am yet."

Archie smiled and rubbed his weary face. That needed no reply.

Emma lowered herself to sit on the top step beside him.

"Hey, uh ..." she began and stared at him pensively. "Good job. That could have gone a lot worse. Especially when that asshole prosecutor started whipping up the mob."

Archie pressed his lips together, the closest sign of his inner irritation he'd ever willingly reveal. "He's a very angry man. He used to be a king. Now he's just … well. But, if it helps, he wasn't terribly popular back home either, so..."

He thought about George's attitude – the angry eyes, vicious, hateful words. Archie especially recalled at one moment stepping between him and Emma when it wasn't entirely clear who would come out swinging first. He remembered seeing Emma's right hand form a tight, white-knuckled fist as she stepped toe to toe with the king. And her imposing father stepped behind her, his chin jutting out in an eerie mirror image. _How could no one have noticed the family resemblance before?_

The stand-off - which Archie had never caught how it had begun - ended fairly spectacularly. Matt had simply picked up George by the scruff of his shirt, given him a sharp shake, and demanded to know whether he wanted a bit of "impaling".

His husband's reputation was finally good for something positive.

Archie's palms instantly went cold at the reminder of who Matt really was. When he'd woken up that morning beside the burly man-mountain, a strange rush of memories flooded back. But nothing matched the horror that seeped into his soul when he recognized the man he had married.

He had flung himself out of bed in a shocked gasp and jerkily crab-crawled away from him, thrashing ineffectually. It was like one of those dreams where you can't escape a monster because your limbs refuse to move.

Matt had slowly opened an eye and looked at him in puzzled amusement. Until his own memories hit.

"I kin explain," he whispered hoarsely, and that was the closest he'd ever come to sounding less than sure. "God, Arch, it's not what you think."

The pleading look on his face was the only thing that had stopped Archie from flinging himself to his feet and sprinting barefoot from their bedroom.

A loud knock on the door prevented him having to decide at all. Without preamble Regina Mills had flung open their bedroom door and stalked into their room. There was no other word for it. Her charisma hit him first. All the power that came with the knowledge of who she was. He gaped at her.

Regina eyed them, too, and Archie knew he was a pathetic sight in a tangled, unkempt mess on the floor, wearing only his red cotton boxers, his hair sticking out at absurd angles. Matt was sitting up in bed, clad in steel-grey pajama bottoms, bare chested, and with a strangely pleading expression on his face.

It was out of place. Wrong. Archie swallowed as he looked between the two people he had thought he knew inside and out.

A world of wrong.

"I apologize for intruding," Regina began, and waved her hand towards the bed. "But I don't have much time."

Archie blinked at her stupidly. Regina was the Evil Queen, his brain helpfully supplied in a never-ending loop. The actual Evil Queen. Who had cursed them all. He'd fought wars against her. Watched her almost be executed. He'd seen her express regret for not killing _more_ of his friends, her voice shaking with vitriol and vengeance. My God, she was terrifying.

He swallowed as his brain then popped up another incongruous tidbit.

This was the same Evil Queen who ... did not apologize.

_Ever._

And yet she just had.

His eyes slid back to his husband, Matt - no, Grigor the ... Impaler. _Oh god. He'd married a mass murderer. Killer of men, women, children. Even puppies, for god's sake._

 _Too much._ He turned his eyes back to Regina.

"Uh," Archie offered helplessly to her. "Still processing," he rasped out and his eyes erratically shot around the room. He took in the pictures of their wedding day. Matt's proudly framed Horse Riding Instructor - Expert Level certificate. Charity honoree certificates. Photos of kids Matt had helped straighten out their lives. Archie's psychology degree. He stared at it disbelievingly for a moment, the full import of the lies and deceptions slamming into him.

It was all a lie. All of it. Was any part of his life even real?

His eyes full of questions, he finally turned back to the one person who knew.

Her booted feet were shifting impatiently, but even so her expression was sympathetic.

"I know this is hard for you both," she said urgently, "but I really don't have much time."

She dropped a pair of envelopes on their bed. "I need to get away - but these are for you. And Henry will need to be taken to my house soon to collect the rest for everyone else. Perhaps you should see to it before the baying mob burns my home to the ground?" Her lip curled in derision - an expression that Archie had seen more times than he could count. But this time, thanks to almost two years of therapy with her, he recognized it for what it was.

_Fear._

The familiarity of the look almost made him laugh with relief. It was like an anchor and he latched onto it gratefully. If this was real, recognizable – and he _knew_ it was – there was hope it wasn't _all_ an illusion.

He nodded.

Her eyes darted thoughtfully between the two men. Guilt suddenly flooded her face as a new understanding dawned.

"Doctor," she said firmly. When Archie didn't immediately respond, she softened her tone. "Archie," she tried again.

He looked up and said "Hmm?"

"I'm sorry about ..." she waved her hand around again. "But I'm especially sorry you woke up next to a man you probably think is a monster.''

She stopped and her face clouded over - yet another joyfully familiar expression to her therapist. He exhaled hard, knowing she was thinking of Emma. To her credit she didn't make the moment about herself though. She looked back at Grigor and dropped her eyes, flicking invisible lint off her black pants.

Archie held his breath.

"But you should know something," she continued, and lifted her eyes again. "Gold... Rumpelstiltskin ... admitted to me that Matt is not a killer. He was never a killer. It was all a sham - Grigor is PR invention carried out with magical smoke and mirrors - all to provide a rallying point for King George and get recruits for his army."

 _The relief. Oh god, the sweet, sweet relief._ Archie's head snapped up and heat flooded his cheeks when he realized his husband was watching him closely.

Matt nodded sharply once but not taking his eyes off Archie. At the stricken look on the big man's face it was clear he understood his husband had thought the worst. Archie slowly slipped his eyes away from him, unable to look anymore.

"Well, I'll ... leave," Regina muttered, the emotional weight of the room suffocating all the occupants. "Archie, here's something else for you in your capacity as mayor - some suggestions, instructions that should assist you through this time. Neither of us wants Storybrooke descending into anarchy. That would be simply unacceptable."

"Mom? I've finished! Are you ready?"

The voice from outside shattered the strained room and Matt visibly started.

Regina smiled tightly. "It's time to go," she said amost to herself.

She dropped her Mercedes car keys onto the bureau by the bed and glanced at Archie. "Trappings of the office. My chariot is yours now, Mayor Hopper."

"But how will you...?" Archie waved his hand vaguely.

"I hope you don't mind me borrowing your transport. Something a little less obvious to my enemies who might hunt for me? Henry has packed it for me."

"Is that why you sent him to us? To make your escape more efficient?" Matt's low voice finally rumbled accusingly. "We're all just pawns in your plan?"

"Partly," Regina agreed tightly, her eyes flashing. "And partly because I knew you two care about him and would protect him as your own until Emma can get to him."

"With our lives," Archie said earnestly. "Of course we will defend Henry."

Regina's lips curved into a rare genuine smile. "I know," she said after a moment. She turned. "I know. Really. Thank you."

She left, banging the door shut behind her. There were soft murmurings between mother and son. Then silence.

Henry entered a moment later, his head low, hair still sleep rumpled, but eyes shining.

"She's gone," he said. "She wouldn't say where she's going though."

When no one spoke he added: "I can't believe it's actually really happened. The curse breaking!"

He looked up at the two men as if finally aware no one was speaking, and that Matt kept eyeing Archie furtively.

"What?!" Henry demanded.

"What?" Archie queried.

"You two. Why are you acting so weird and looking at each other funny?"

Matt growled and threw back the bed covers and grabbed for his flannel shirt. "We just woke up from a goddamned evil curse. Why do you think?"

Archie eyed the ragged way his husband was now attempting to button his flannel, his thick fingers trembling, and moved towards him. He patted his powerful bicep and said matter-of-factly: "It'll be OK. We'll be fine. You and me? Fine."

The relieved drop of the burly man's shoulder was evident enough that even Henry noticed. He shifted from foot to foot. "Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to ... um interrupt anything ... I can go get breakfast if that's OK?"

"Sure, Henry, help yourself. You know where the cereal is. We'll be along soon." Archie gave him a reassuring smile and waited until the bedroom door clicked close.

Then he drew his arms around Matt, pulling him tightly against his chest. "Sorry. I should have known instantly. I know you. And you wouldn't hurt a fly."

Matt exhaled heavily and lifted his arms to return the hug. "I was ... afraid. Thought you might not…" He faded out, breathing shakily.

"Me too," Archie finally admitted softly. He waited a moment till he could feel Matt's racing heart quiet and then just leaned against his shoulder. "We have a lot to talk about. But right now the curse will have stirred up an entire town of angry people. I should go and be mayor. Actually earn the title!"

He felt a meaty hand cup the back of his head and stroke his hair. "Yair," came the low rumble. "Let's go fix this steaming pile of horse dung."

Archie gave him a quick kiss and pulled away, looking around for some pants. "I think that'll be the next order of business," he agreed with a smirk as he pulled on his jeans. "Well, right after breakfast. Agenda item No. 1: Fix the steaming pile of horse, er, dung."

* * *

Matt had certainly been right. The horse dung had indeed landed - in the form of hundreds and hundreds of irate residents swarming around, their numbers swelling every half hour as more and more people awoke, remembered, and came out on the streets, shouting, berating, demanding. Some of the demands were fairly incoherent but the ones that were most appalling had included suggestions of things to do to Regina.

Between Whale being a ranting drama queen – Archie decided as of that moment it was a highly accurate clinical term – and King George carrying on like a domineering, manipulative bully, it had been a wise move for Regina to be anywhere but here.

The only thing that had shut them up for ten minutes was Henry suddenly dragging the sack of letters to them, from the front door to the top of the steps. He'd played mailman, and Archie had been relieved the more colourful final solutions for Regina had been zipped while her son walked among them. The letters were opened with cynical expressions and angry ripping sounds and for a few moments the residents of Storybrooke all read quietly.

Within minutes, a dozen or so portals opened up around them as those residents without any affection for or ties to Storybrooke instantly took their beans and went straight home.

The sight of the flickering crackling pools had silenced those who didn't immediately leave. Archie could see the conflict on their faces as they considered their options.

Some families had then looked thoughtfully at their letters and had slipped away from the mob - presumably to think about their futures.

Snow White had gamely tried to stop people from leaving, arguing it should be a group decision. Which had, predictably Archie thought, led to the next round of vitriol – the constitutional nightmare of having a number of rival royal families, each trying to call the shots in Storybrooke.

Archie had sat back on the steps with a sigh, watching as each made their case for leadership, while Grumpy threatened anyone who got too rude to Snow.

By the time Prince Frederick was arguing with George about who had the biggest realm - which (also predictably) devolved into disputes about borders illegally acquired in various wars - the mayor felt a migraine coming on.

Archie felt a movement beside him and glanced to his right.

"She knew, didn't she," Emma asked him quietly.

He cocked a questioning eyebrow.

Emma waved her hand at the enraged masses. "That it would devolve into this. That's why she made you mayor. You're like freaking Switzerland. Right?"

"Mm," the doctor replied, and he fiddled with his glasses for a moment. "Probably. And she also wouldn't want your parents in charge just because … well all their ancient history."

Emma flinched.

"Sorry," he added. "I know you're still adjusting to having parents. And having parents with a very bad history with the woman you care for. It must be strange."

"That's not the half of it," Emma muttered. "My mother is apparently the world's most famous storybook character. And she keeps looking at me with these big doey eyes like she just wants to hug me and pet my hair and call me baby, and it's freaking me out! I've had to disengage myself from her octopus arms at least six times already, and suggest she fucking journal her emotions for a while. She didn't, uh, take that idea well - at all."

Archie tried not to laugh but it was a close call. He patted her hand. "I feel your pain. But remember - there are worst things than discovering you're loved."

Emma humphed but didn't disagree. She waved her hand at the throng when they both realised yet another princess was making her case. Emma squinted at her.

"Wait - isn't she that single mom I met in my first week? Ashley something?"

"Try Cinderella. Or Bella."

"Fuck, is this town like 60 per cent royals?" Emma snorted. "Who do they rule if they can't rule each other?"

"I think that's what they're debating now." Archie deadpanned, then yawned. "Power plays are tedious in any realm. I doubt Frederick, David and George will ever concede a point the way they're going. Unfortunately most royals - even the nice ones - never tire of the sound of their own voices," he offered with a conspiratorial whisper.

"Why don't you just invoke the mayor title all over their asses and end this? You know, bang their heads together and tell them to play nice? They'd listen to you."

Archie grinned. "I did think of intervening earlier, but it's good for them to get it all out in the open. All their grievances and anger. There's a lot pent up."

There was another flash, and everyone paused mid-argument to watch a plumber and his wife step in front of a new portal. The woman waved a sad farewell to the crowd, hitching a bag over her shoulder, and then stepped forward and disappeared. Her weather-beaten husband stared at them with a condemning look of disappointment and shook his head sorrowfully. He glared at all the royals the longest. Then he, too, disappeared into a blink of light.

It seemed to take the wind out of the sails of the warring factions.

"Nothing like being judged and found wanting by the man who shoves his arm down your toilet, is there?" Emma murmured.

Archie smirked. "I guess not. Well, all this guilt and shame means it's finally my cue. They're probably ready to listen now."

He rose, coughed once to get everyone's attention, and then gently proposed himself as the neutral interim leadership candidate, until such time as the various alliances got sorted out later.

The relief on everyone's faces were palpable. The royals agreed, albeit reluctantly in King George's case – although a quelling glare from Grigor swayed his no to a yes fairly promptly.

Whale stalked away from the crowd waving his arms. "I don't care what you lot do. I have my own travel plans to make. My letter came with a scholarship to medical school. I plan to learn _real_ science. _Real_ medicine. Not this voodoo shit you love."

He flung his right arm straight up and stalked away with his middle finger raised, his exit so dramatic the crowd dissolved into laughter.

Maybe that had been his intent, Archie mused, and gave the retreating figure an approving smile.

It was like a dam bursting and the fight was suddenly gone from the factions.

"We can reconvene with a town hall meeting tomorrow and look at the way forward. I have some ideas," Archie added, deciding it was judicious not to mention their source. "And as mentioned earlier, I believe a trial in-absentia for Regina is in order. We'll sort out the details tomorrow."

The crowd began to break up. Archie sat back down. He signalled for Matt to take Henry home. The mayor had some office work to take care of and plenty of planning.

"Trial? Regina mentioned that in her letter to me," Emma said pensively beside him.

"She was pretty thorough," Archie said. "She was very impressed with the truth hearings in South Africa after the end of Apartheid. She thought that might be a good template here. Let everyone have their say, explain their anger, detail the crimes perpetrated against them, air their views in open court. It's apparently therapeutic and healing as well as a good system for reaching verdicts on offenders."

"Regina wanted everyone to air their grievances about her? Really?!"

Archie shrugged. "She said it was the fairest way forward. And in four months she'll return for the verdict. We just have to work out who is on the judiciary panel. Anyone can nominate to apply to be the prosecutor."

"You'll get a lot of volunteers," Emma said shaking her head. "Everyone seems to want her head on a pike."

"I suspect so," Archie agreed, and caught her flinch.

"Would you volunteer?" Emma asked hopefully.

"No, I'm Switzerland remember. And they need me to be the judge – well it's more a disputes arbiter in this situation. The committee panel will pass any verdict, not me."

"You haven't mentioned anyone defending her. I volunteer. She should have _someone_ on her side. I could do this."

"But you won't."

"No, this is bullshit. Fairytale land rules of arbitrary justice shouldn't apply here – let me stand for her. Come ON!"

"I didn't say she wouldn't have anyone defend her – it just won't be you. She gets to decide who her representative is. She wanted the ones she loved kept well out of this to avoid any blowback. That obviously includes you."

"So who did she pick?" Emma asked.

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I am rather curious as to who she chose, too."

There was an angry howl and a figure stalked up to Archie and Emma, flinging a letter on the ground.

"What was she _thinking_?" the recipient wailed. "This makes NO sense."

Archie picked up the crumpled letter. He and Emma glanced at it together. Unlike everyone else's, this letter contained no words of apology, no promises of gifts, nothing at all but a single handwritten paragraph (which in itself was unusual): "Snow, you will defend me at my trial. It's time."

Emma's eyes grew wide. After a barrage of outraged insults, Snow turned and flung herself into the arms of her husband. "She gets to me every time," she complained bitterly as he patted her back.

Archie suppressed a smirk and leaned back on his elbows. _Interesting days ahead._ He also had more than a sneaking suspicion about what the former mayor was up to.

 _Well played, Regina Mills_ , he thought.

_Well played.  
_


	67. GERMANY

The list of prosecutor candidates was long but not as long as Emma had feared when she'd first sat down beside Archie at the mayor's desk to look the hopefuls' names over. He explained the shortness of the list immediately. "I whittled it down from 166," he said with a tired sigh. "These are the, well, least offensive candidates."

He slid a crumpled piece of paper across the desk so she could see it too. Not that Emma had any say in the selection process, but Archie had kindly agreed to allow her to be present when he chose the name as a "professional courtesy – mayor to sheriff".

They both knew that was complete crap. He didn't have to include her in anything. Emma had given him such a knowing stare when he made the offer that he'd actually blushed.

His only stipulation was she couldn't interfere in his choice – she could observe, offer comments even, but his decision was final. She'd agreed readily and watched with her guts in knots as she now found herself eyeballing a list of names, one of whom would soon rip Regina's life to shreds in court.

As she read, Loreena Greene rolled in, placed a tea next to the mayor's arm, nodded curtly at him, ignoring Emma completely, and rolled out.

"I could go a glass of water, if you don't mind," she called out pleasantly to the retreating back. The wheelchair froze.

"I do mind. I'm the mayor's assistant, not the sheriff's," Loreena retorted not even looking at her before she resumed moving, and closed the door a little too loudly on her way out.

Archie bit back a smile at Emma's askance look. "Come on, let's get this over with so you don't die of thirst," he said and reached for his drink.

The first name was King George. Emma looked at it with dread. She could not think of a worse adversary.

But to her surprise, the mayor ran a red pen through it immediately.

"Why?" she asked in astonishment. As candidates went he was all top drawer. "I mean he even has decades of actual experience as a prosecutor in Storybrooke."

"Justice goes both ways," Archie replied evenly. "He is incapable of doing the job professionally for this case - he would be punitive, vengeful and, well," he paused to clean his glasses and glanced at her, "... just plain nasty. There is too much bad blood between him and her. And you heard the horrors he shouted at wanting to inflict on her the morning the curse broke."

Emma shuddered. "Of course I did. Why do you think I was about to thump him? He's lucky your husband has such fast reflexes."

Archie snorted. "Yes, well. Anyway, we don't want any prosecutor filled with such malice and vitriol."

"I don't get it," Emma asked, brows furrowing. "Isn't he _exactly_ what the people want? Someone to pin Regina to the freaking wall and show no mercy?''

Archie sighed. "Even if many of them want that, I won't allow it. There will be no kangaroo court on my watch. Justice will be done – on _both_ sides.''

Emma's guts uncoiled the tiniest fraction. She watched, transfixed, as Archie's pen moved down the list and bisected Grumpy's name.

"No angry dwarves, either?" she asked, curiously.

Archie's lips gave the faintest curl. "Didn't you hear me say I wanted a professional? Not someone who rants loudly but expresses nothing effectively. We can get that in a mob on the street. The court needs someone who can build a case elegantly and incisively, not try to win an argument by shouting the loudest and whipping up the public. We will do this intelligently."

The red line went through Red's name next.

Emma sagged in disappointment. "Oh." She'd be lying if she'd said she hadn't been desperately hoping her friend got the job. Red bore Regina no animosity at all. If anything, they almost got on. Sort of. Well as much as Regina did with people she didn't care about personally. There'd be zero viciousness with Red in charge of the prosecution. Which was why Emma had begged her to put her name forward in the first place.

But Archie shook his head firmly.

"Regina and Red did _not_ have an adversarial relationship," he explained and spread his hands. "I wouldn't call them good friends but they did get on adequately. Some might perceive them as too _familiar_ for Red to be seen as impartial. So just as we cannot have the perception of malicious bias against Regina, I cannot select someone who might be perceived as biased in her favour. Justice has to be done and seen to be done. So to that end..."

He immediately ran a red line through the next name and glanced at her pointedly. "Nice try though," he added and smiled. "But you had to have known."

Emma smirked back and looked sheepishly at the line through one "E. Swan". It had been a stupid idea after a few too many beers to get Regina off by being a woeful prosecutor. She'd sobered up, but the form was already submitted.

She grinned at Archie and shrugged. "Not exactly shocked."

The red line next went through David's name.

This time Emma's eyebrows shot up. Her father was the favored candidate.

"Why?" she asked. "He has the backing of the people, he's not too, you know, frothing at the mouth against Regina. But people know he still hates her for the curse."

"Actually he is perfect," Archie agreed. "Except for one thing: He's married to the defence counsel. That has so many conflicts of interest it's not funny. And even if I didn't eliminate him based on that, your father obviously hasn't thought ahead to what it will be like to face his own wife in an adversarial and competitive setting in court. Trust me, I'm doing their marriage a huge favour."

"Oh," Emma said, her mouth turning down slightly. _Well_ , c _rap._

"Did you really want David prosecuting Regina?" he paused and looked at her closely. "You did, didn't you?''

Emma blushed faintly. "I, um, yeah. Wouldn't have minded. He's not um ... well he's not exactly Gold with the tricky schemes-within-schemes is he? He wouldn't be laying some freakishly intricate traps for the defence or anything."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Archie's eyes twinkled in understanding. "You think he might inadvertently get Regina off through lack of cunning and, er, nefarious plans?" Archie guessed.

Emma scowled, unimpressed at being read so easily and embarrassed to think that way about her own blood. _Even if it was true._ He really could be as dumb as a box of socks. She deliberately didn't reply and instead deflected innocently with: "Who's next?"

Archie chuckled as Emma rolled her eyes.

"We're down to two: Eugenia Lucas and Loreena Greene."

"Loreena? The same Loreena who was Regina's secretary for 30 years?" Emma scowled, mentally adding 'and who hates my guts for some unknown reason and won't even bring a thirsty woman a lousy damn glass of water'.

She continued: "As her assistant, won't she be perceived as soft on Regina like Red was?"

" _Soft? Loreena?!_ " Archie's eyes widened and his mouth curved in amusement. He lowered his voice, and his eyes flicked towards the door. "Loreena being soft on anyone is ludicrous. On the contrary,'' he added, "she has never made any secret of her disdain for her former boss, often to Regina's face. I think the only thing that saved her from Regina's wrath was the fact she did it to everyone. Her loathing is for every single person in Storybrooke - a fact you can't have missed."

He pointedly reached for his tea and sipped slowly. He placed it back on the table. "Emma, she's an equal opportunity loather, so one can't argue unreasonable favour or bias in her case."

"Why?" Emma asked suddenly.

"Why what?"

"Why does she want to bring down Regina?"

Archie frowned. "I never asked. But Regina was an infamously volatile boss who changed her demands and rules on a whim. She could be demanding and cutting when she did not get what she wanted, when she wanted."

Emma glanced at her hands, twisting on the desk. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the Regina she fell in love with, and the hard ass one she'd first met. Now, throw an evil queen persona into the mix and Emma was truly lost as to what to make of her. What she should feel. She wondered if she ever would unknot it all. It was confusing and painful.

"No one enjoyed working for her," Archie continued. "Loreena was just another put-upon employee who now has a voice and is keen to use it."

Emma sighed. A lot of people were grinding axes against Regina – her secretary would be no different.

There was only one other name on the list.

"And Granny?"

"She ticks all the boxes," Archie said thoughtfully, "She's not unhinged in her hatred of Regina and could be professional in this duty. Except for one thing. This process will drag out for several months. I had to share a battlefield once with her for six weeks while there was a truce on, and I'm … ah… not keen to relive it. The woman has the patience and temperament of a sleep-deprived three-year-old."

Emma grinned at the horrified grimace that transformed the usually unflappable man's face. "It's just… no, no, no," he added, shutting his eyes.

He shuddered then blinked. "So, for the sake of Granny's peace of mind - and our own - and in light of Loreena Greene's already established tolerance of coping efficiently in a bureaucratic system, especially an adversarial one given she endured working for Regina - it seems we have our prosecutor. Although I suspect as the judge I will not look forward to Miss Greene's ferociously razor-sharp tongue."

He slapped his notebook closed in relief and stood.

"I'll let everyone know about the prosecutor, including Loreena," the sheriff said, rising beside him.

"Thanks Emma. I appreciate that."

As she gathered up her own paperwork, Archie casually added: "Oh, before I forget, how are you coming along with your search for Regina? Any leads?"

"Well yeah. I thought maybe she was ..." Emma trailed off and her eyes narrowed dangerously. She glared at him. _The clever, cunning bastard. Tricking her to …_

Archie nodded sympathetically. "That's what I thought. You do realize she could be absolutely anywhere by now? The world is a big place."

"Archie, we both know she's not that far away."

"Do we?" he asked. She eyed him for a beat, assessing whether he knew anything. Her lie detector came up clean. But still…

She lowered her voice conspiratorially: "I'm not the only one to notice you're now driving her Merc. And one time I went out to your place to pick up Henry, I saw the horse she likes to ride – that black and white one - was missing. And it was missing the next time I visited. And the next time. So tell me, doc, was her Mercedes _literally_ horse traded?"

"I can promise we did no deals with her to take Peppermint," Archie said tartly. Then, at her sharp look, he added: "But ... of course Regina does what Regina does."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Matt was not too impressed to find Peppermint missing. When she'd said she was taking our transport, I thought she meant my Citroen. Never occurred to me she had Henry outside packing and saddling up Peppermint for her."

Emma's eyebrows lifted. _This was news._

She'd have to have a little chat with their son.

"But at least it's a loan. Peppermint I mean," Archie rambled on. "Still," he pinned her with a look, "Regina has been gone for over a week – even on horseback she could have changed states by now. Why are you wasting your time chasing around _here_ for her?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Because I _know_ her. She warned me in her letter about 'Running all over Storybrooke' looking for her. Which means she's still around here somewhere."

"Ah." Archie couldn't fault the logic.

Emma continued. "And I just can't see her willing to be a state or two away from her son. It's a mental thing."

"Have you considered she doesn't _want_ to be found?"

Emma bit her lip. "Is that what she told you?" Her eyes shadowed in disappointment and her insides clenched anxiously.

"No. But maybe you should ask yourself what you plan on doing when you find her?"

Emma scowled but said nothing. She'd thought of little else and reached no conclusions.

"Will you convince her to come back early? To this?" He waved his hands toward the window at the outside world. "A place where every mail delivery we get at least one death threat for her. Every morning you chase angry youths away from her house who want to do a little 'redecorating'.

"You heard what the masses said about her on her steps that day. Not all of it is idle talk. Do not be fooled by our charming modern-day Storybrooke personas, Emma. You would be shockedat what we are capable of. If you knew…"

He shook his head and continued.

"Pretty much everyone in Storybrooke has been a soldier in some capacity or other at least once. Any one of us is deadly when we choose to be. Have you thought about that? Will you protect her every minute from every one? And what if you are unlucky one day? Or she is? Have you truly thought this through?"

He looked solemnly at her, and Emma saw a flicker of shame in his eyes for his people. S _o even he didn't endorse their ways – he just understood them. Much the same way Regina had – and she'd said virtually the same thing._

"I..." Emma shoved her hands in her pockets, feeling lost. "I dunno. I just..."

Archie eyed her sympathetically. They sat in silence before he offered quietly: "You miss her."

Emma glared at him, annoyed she was so easy to read. "I suppose you think it's a stupid risk, from someone out of her depth, who doesn't know what the hell she's doing around fairytale people?"

The mayor regarded her evenly. He didn't deign to condescend. Just watched her. "You know what's at stake."

She inclined her head in agreement. Archie looked thoughtful and shook his head.

Finally he passed her some paperwork. "Can you drop one of these off with Snow, and one with Loreena?''

"Sure."

"Tell them both the trial is fixed for Monday at nine."

She nodded again and turned to leave.

"Oh and Emma?"

She glanced back.

"Good luck." His eyes twinkled. "Give her my regards should you find her."

* * *

Archie at last had finished all his paperwork for the day, at least as much as he could do.

He snapped out the office light and exited. He paused as he passed Loreena's desk in the outer office.

The mayor glanced at the clock. _Seven._

"Still here?" he asked his secretary politely.

"Evidently," she muttered, and added a file to a folder with a satisfied slap.

"Oh, yes, of course," he said, annoyed to feel so foolish.

"Mayor," she asked after a moment, her tone twisting the title just enough to show her disdain for the man - now her boss - who had not been elected officially in any capacity.

"Miss Greene?"

"Who else was on the shortlist for prosecutor?"

"Why?"

"I wish to know who to interview before the trial. All named will be highly motivated parties. It would be prudent to be forearmed before the court hearings by speaking to the key players."

Archie smiled tightly at that. "Well, OK, yes. I can see I made the right choice." He slid the crumpled paper with the red-lined names across to her. "Here's the list. Give a copy to Snow if she asks, too."

"She won't."

He paused at the certainty of her comment, feeling vaguely unsettled.

"Miss Greene?"

She looked up from keenly examining the list, flinty blue eyes staring right through him.

"Why did you want to prosecute Regina?" he asked, recalling Emma's pertinent question.

"The royals," Loreena said coldly. "Self-entitled, arrogant asses. I hate all royals, but, of course, one in particular."

Her eyes were cold and flicked to picture on the wall. Regina was cutting a ribbon at an event, smiling a little too smugly to be polite. The woman was virtually preening. The Charmings were behind clapping with saccharine cheer amid a crowd which looked utterly bored. They were also clapping. To one side, in the very corner of the picture, he spotted Loreena, a look on her face of utter revulsion, obviously unnoticed and ignored by the photographer, and ever so slightly out of focus. He wondered if that was a metaphor for her life?

She was not clapping.

Loreena's face bore an icy expression and she turned from the photo and locked eyes on him. Archie felt a little shiver slide down his spine. He nodded abruptly and strode out, muttering farewell, finding relief only when he stepped free into the night air. It was chilly but it gave him comfort to feel it after a day confined indoors, stifled. He climbed swiftly into the mayoral Merc and floored it the entire way to Matt's, trying to shake that odd feeling he'd had the moment he'd left his office.

He found his flannel-shirted husband in the kitchen stirring a large pot of beef and vegetable stew. Enough to feed a tribe. Old habits, Archie supposed, because since the curse broke Matt hadn't had any hard-luck cases to take under his wing. They'd all melted away with suddenly remembered other lives.

Archie's heart lightened with relief at the warmth in the room and he leaned in to kiss Matt's cheek, lingering at his collar as he inhaled the unique scent that was his husband.

"Bad day?" the large man rumbled.

 _How did he do that?_ Archie was always amazed at his prescience. He just _knew_.

"A little unsettling. And I named the prosecutor."

"Yair? Who'd you go for?" Matt asked adding some tomatoes to the mix. His muscles flexed and bulged as he stirred. Archie found it faintly hypnotic.

"You probably don't know her. It's Loreena Greene, Regina's former secretar…"

He faded out when he realised Matt was no longer stirring but looking at him with an unreadable expression. Sharp brown eyes seemed to hold a hint of surprise.

"I thought you liked Regina?" Matt asked seriously.

"I do," Archie admitted slowly, confused. "When she's not cursing everyone of course..."

"So why'd you allow that woman to be the prosecutor then?"

"W-why not?" Archie asked, that sick feeling rising up anew.

"I had a lot to do with her in the early days. The mayor never approved charity funding and the like, it was her secretary who pushed through the paperwork. Or sat on it. Or tore it up, as she saw fit. If you wanted anything from the mayor's office, even a paperclip, Greene was who you went cap in hand to. There were many a weeks I didn't know if there'd be food on the plate for the boys when Greene was in the mind to play evil bureaucrat from hell. She was sharp and shrewd, cunning and as vicious as a crate of cats and bloodyminded and brutal when she wanted to screw you over."

"Oh.." Archie paled. He'd never had a clue.

"Mmm," Matt said and returned to stirring the pot. "If Emma calls you Switzerland, then Loreena Greene is definitely Germany."

Archie's jaw dropped open.

"As in World War II Germany," Matt clarified, reaching for the salt. "An' to be real clear, Arch, I ain't calling her that cos of her supreme efficiency."

Archie blinked uncertainly. "So if she's Germany, what does that make Snow White?" He swallowed.

Matt stopped stirring again and wiped his meaty hands on a kitchen towel. He looked his husband dead in the eye and shook his head sadly.

"Ain't nothing can be done for Regina Mills now. Cos as of today, Snow White is Poland."


	68. FINDING REGINA

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

Regina Mills awoke with the early morning sun as she usually did these days. It was hard not to with it pouring into her luxurious, white, 10-man tent each morning, lighting up her small collection of favored possessions. She sat up on her sturdy cot bed and, as was her habit each morning, glanced at the upturned crate she used as a makeshift bed-side table. She gazed intently at the pictures of Henry and of Emma.

She allowed herself a small smile in her sleepy state before the rest of the memories flooded in - what she now just thought of as the jagged pieces of her life. She pulled off her silken pajamas and sighed, standing naked, and reached for her thickest bathroom robe off her robe railing. It might be a vanity, but she'd actually transported a portable robe on wheels out here, because crumpled, messy clothes would not do. She was not an animal. If these were to be her last days on earth, she would not cower about in rumpled disarray.

It had taken about two weeks of secret pre-dawn trips to get so much camping gear, unseen, out of Storybrooke and to this spot, but her foresight had been worth it. The past three months had been spent in relative physical comfort, with everything from a powerful camping lantern (with many, many spare batteries) for the evening and an iPod and speakers to break up the monotony throughout the afternoon.

Her days were spent reading, listening to music or podcasts - the recipe ones were particularly interesting and she found herself making copious mental notes of techniques to try later. _If there was a later._ Such thoughts generally darkened her mood and drove her to barrel off to the stream to check her three strategically placed fishing lines.

She'd brought plenty of packet herbs and spices and foil, so her catches at least were always fresh and tasty. She supplemented her meals with tinned rations when the monotony of seafood caused her palate to rebel.

Regina yawned and stretched, rubbing a hand absently over her stomach, noting it was leaner than it had been. That was to be expected. With no one to cook for - no children or girlfriends with voracious appetites to cater to - her diet had reverted to the pared-back essentials she'd eaten before she knew either Henry or Emma.

A jagged, ripping stab of emotion went through as she thought of the two people she loved and she swiftly forced them from her mind.

She shouldered her towel, grabbed her watch and a bar of soap and unzipped the tent, to begin her daily ablutions at the stream. Bathing in the great outdoors was not actually so great. Especially at this time of year. She had begun playing a game with herself. She would time how long she could stay in the bracing waters before the iciness drove her out.

Yesterday was six minutes.

Well, hell, it was something to do. Besides, she had endured far worse conditions during the various wars and skirmishes she'd led. And at least now she got to get clean without any bodyguards lurking.

Today Regina didn't linger. Three minutes, 42 seconds. Oh well. She toweled brusquely down and then lay back on her favorite, warmed sunning rock taking advantage of nature's best heater. As she lay, naked, peering up at the blue and red streaked morning sky, her mind wandered to the trial.

Were they eviscerating her now? Every widow and widower pointing gnarled fingers at her picture and making devil signs? She hoped Emma had the good sense to keep Henry far from it. She wondered how Emma was.

She remembered her wide green eyes the night on her balcony when she'd been struggling with the impossible truth. Knowing and trying to drink away the knowledge to oblivion. Trying to unknow what could never be unknown. Failing. Then looking at her, betrayed. Still knowing in spite of seven beers and a whole lot of denial. Her stomach felt sick at the recollection.

She would do it all so differently if she had her time over.

A small insect buzzed past and she waved an irritated hand at it. It wasn't taking no for an answer so Regina decided this was her cue. She wasn't getting any dryer. And now the wind was picking up. She shivered.

She sat up with a sigh, pulled on her robe, knotting it firmly, slid on her comfortable flat shoes, and headed back to camp.

She supposed she might tackle the podcast, Perfect Pastries, this morning, then move on to the Infinite Monkey Cage. Some science thing Henry had loaded for her. The experts' enthusiastic and humorous debate about knowing the exact moment strawberries were dead still faintly hurt her head. Trust Henry to add that to her playlist.

He'd added quite a few surprises to her iPod that she'd only discovered once she'd made her escape. It made her eyes fill with tears the first time she'd discovered his "For Mom" folder. So she listened to his Monkey Cage selections and other random, esoteric offerings, knowing it came from him. He'd wanted her happy. That was all that mattered.

_Well, almost all._

She pushed past the last bush into camp and headed for her tent to change and find her iPod. She wondered if there was much she had to learn about pastry perfection.

"Hello Regina."

She felt the shock literally freeze her. It had been so long since she'd heard another voice it took her a moment to realize what she'd heard. She quickly tried to rearrange her features into neutral - not entirely succeeding - as her eyes shot around to find a relaxed woman who had made herself at home in her camp chair. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. She gave Regina a tight smile.

"So you found me," the former mayor muttered when her voice - and legs - finally began working.

"It wasn't hard."

Regina shook her head as if to clear it then walked past the familiar face, trying to get her composure back. She reached her clothes line, little more than a piece of white cord strung between two trees. She arranged her towel slowly, buying herself more time.

"Do I want to know how?" she asked as she returned to camp. "I would have thought if anyone would find me, it'd be Emma. Not you."

Snow gave a lazy smile and leaned back in the camp chair and surprise crossed her face. Regina knew that expression. Her chair was surprisingly comfy. _Why do anything by halves? Why 'rough it' needlessly?_

"Emma is good at tracking in cities," Snow said. "As you know, I'm better out here."

_Ah. Well, there was that._

Regina bit her lip pensively then immediately realized she was doing it and stopped. She let her mask drop into place. This was not how she'd predicted things would go. She kicked a fallen log closer to Snow and sat opposite her. Elbows jabbing into knees.

"So this is a social visit or have you come to summon me before for the archers?'' She tried her most indifferent sneer.

Snow regarded her for a beat. "I've come to talk about the trial - as your defense counsel you need to know what has taken place. And also to ask you a very serious question." Snow leaned forward, licking her lips nervously.

"Let me guess, 'Do I feel sorry for all the wicked deeds I've done? Do I _truly_ repent'," Regina's mocked as she drawled the statement out. Her eyes half-closed to warning slits. "You are all somewhat predictable." She waved a hand dismissively.

It was her defensive mechanism, Regina knew. Fight but never submit. A good defense is no match for a killer offense. She'd directed it at Snow many times over the years. But to her surprise, this time the younger woman didn't bite or was even distracted. Instead Snow rolled her eyes and gave an aggrieved huff, folding her arms across her chest.

"For God's sake Regina, be serious. I came to ask: 'What are your intentions towards my daughter?'."

* * *

Snow had not needed much time to track down Regina. It was pretty much as if the former evil queen had drawn a big arrow pointing to her hideout - if only Emma had been focused enough or prepared to see it. Of course she wasn't. Emma was an emotional mess. She'd blow hot and cold, be up one minute, down the next. Manically flinging papers and maps around, growling that Regina couldn't possibly be far, and then getting in her Beetle and driving for hours. Aimlessly.

She'd also been dividing her time between Snow's apartment and Regina's mansion, torn in every way, at sea as to what to do next.

She did have to spend a fair bit of time at Regina's regardless - vandals had repeatedly been attacking the mansion and Emma saw it as her duty to fix the damage and hunt the culprits. She'd also made it her mission to get to the bottom of the letters that still kept coming in from all over town. Hateful, horrible death threats about Regina, sent to the mayor's office. As Loreena had to open them each morning before court - being the mayor's secretary - it put her in a foul mood each day. A mood she took out on the defense case and Snow in particular, with chilling efficiency. Which made Emma even more driven to put a stop to it.

But on the personal front, Emma was coming apart at the seams. Snow had never seen the blonde unsure before. It was unsettling.

Henry was worried about her, too. He'd told Snow so. And as the weeks had worn on, she'd also started to fret greatly about her daughter. Not that Emma ever let her get close enough for an actual intimate conversation. _Heaven forbid._

The breakthrough in finding Regina - and having an actual conversation with Emma - had come unexpectedly. There'd been a bang as Emma shouldered her way through the apartment door, arms filled will folders and notes and maps.

Snow had raised an eyebrow as all of it was dumped on her coffee table. With one pointed look she'd directed David out the door for an impromptu "night out with the boys". And then she'd cleared more space for Emma.

"What have we here?" she'd asked kindly as her daughter immediately bent forward and began sorting furiously.

"Cold case," she muttered. "I've been too close to it. Need a second set of eyes to find her. Maybe brainstorming will help." And then she'd spread out all her maps and manic notes and begun talking to herself.

Snow watched quietly as her daughter worked, haphazardly it seemed to her eye, and absorbed everything closely.

The teacher paid razor-sharp attention to every detail. When maps came out, she noted falls of land with the expert eye of someone whose survival had once depended on it, knowing where Regina could stay for an extended period, and where it wouldn't be feasible.

She'd already mentally ruled out vast swathes of the map Emma was focusing on and was strongly considering a visit to Matt's wilderness cabin when Emma made an offhand remark. She'd spent one night camping out with Regina. Snow frowned. She'd heard something to that effect but, at the time, so absorbed with marriage plans with David, she hadn't really paid much attention.

But now... Snow stared at Emma in astonishment that a woman this smart had missed the obvious and had actually moved on.

She gently coaxed Emma back to the topic and discovered Ruby had helped organize the camping event. _Well._

A few hours later she'd patted her daughter on the hand, suggesting she call it a night, and went to bed herself.

The next day, over a few coffees, Ruby had produced the exact co-ordinates and even a hand-drawn mini-map.

That it hadn't even occurred to Emma that this was where Regina most likely was, was both intriguing and depressing. Snow had sighed inwardly at her daughter's addled state of mind.

She knew Emma was never particularly ready to believe when others loved her. Probably because they hadn't before. Finding love and _truly_ believing it was reciprocated were often separate things. Snow's own experiences taught her that. The more she'd tried to draw her daughter near, the more Emma pulled away, her wide "back off" eyes radiating anxiety.

In a way it was a mystery Regina could capture her daughter's heart at all given it was so brittle and fragile. Somehow Emma couldn't even fathom for a moment Regina would be drawn to a shared romantic spot. Because to do so would mean truly believing in their love and her lover's sentimentality towards her.

Emma had no faith in herself. And absolutely none in anyone truly loving her.

This disarray in Emma's hunt suited Snow just fine, for now. This was a chat she needed to have way before Emma found Regina. Snow needed to know exactly what she was up against. Was this all a sick game for the Evil Queen? Crush Emma to bring Snow to her knees in an even more twisted way than ever before?

In her heart, she thought not. The teacher had been there, every step of the way, from the first day after the staircase, to the day Regina returned to Storybrooke with Emma. She'd experienced both women's see-sawing affections and agonies for the other. She knew pain when she saw it. She knew love.

But that was then. Now Snow had a daughter to protect. She had to be _sure_.

She settled into the chair and waited. She glanced briefly at Peppermint who roamed the area, the mare eyeing the interloper suspiciously before being distracted by a grassy breakfast.

* * *

Snow knew she'd shocked Regina with her unexpected question about her intentions towards Emma. Or maybe she was just expecting to see someone else. Her eyes had held disappointment at who her guest turned out to be. Perhaps she had been right - Regina did want to be found by Emma. Had expected it.

"We'll come back to Emma," Snow said breaking the uncomfortable silence, a little surprised by the open, raw emotions ghosting across the other woman's face. "Let's get the business dealt with first. Your trial."

Regina nodded sharply once. "I suspect we'll need a coffee for that then," she said. "Or three."

If there was a faint crack in Regina's slightly less-than-steady voice, they both ignored it.

Snow watched as the other woman efficiently busied herself with lighting a fire and positioning a thin metal tripod across it, then dangling a small pot of water above it. She then began hunting out mugs from a crate of supplies. Two enamel cups emerged.

That Regina had packed two in the first place was significant. _So - she had been expecting company at some point._ Snow stared at them hard before Regina caught her eye. "Sugar? I don't have milk."

"Two." Snow watched as the steaming mug was filled and handed wordlessly to her.

Regina sat on her log and they both sipped quietly.

"I know why you chose me," Snow began.

"Really?" Regina smiled darkly as she sipped. "Are you quite certain, dear?"

Snow looked at her hands, warming around the cup. "Yes. Quite certain."

Silence fell between them.

"So how was it? Walking a mile in my shoes?" Regina asked. "Being forced to empathize with me."

Snow sighed. "Highly unpleasant," she admitted.

Regina actually smirked at that. "Good," she said. "It was the only gift I could give you that you didn't already possess. Enlightenment."

Her smile wasn't exactly pleasant but neither was it nasty. Snow was reminded yet again of the pain her former step mother still bore at times, like jagged, angry scars.

"Did you really think I was so oblivious?" Snow asked. "Really?"

Regina recoiled at that in outrage. "I didn't _suspect_ you were oblivious. I _knew_ ," she said. "And not just oblivious of the misdeeds of your precious father, but the deeds of all of them to bring a grieving, frightened woman down."

"All of them," Snow said quietly. "Yes. They all told quite a tale. It shocked everyone."

Regina's fury seemed to drop as she considered that. "Good," she repeated with satisfaction. "So you did your job then."

Snow rubbed her head with a distracted hand. "Um. Yes. But it did not go quite as I suspected. Or planned."

"Oh?"

Snow looked at her hands. "I-I didn't count on the prosecutor."

"Who? George? He's easy to take apart. His ego rules everything."

"No," Snow said slowly. "I wish I'd only had to face him."

"Who then?" Regina's eyes seemed to grow narrower as she stared, dark eyes boring a hole through Snow's head.

"Loreena."

For the first time dismay and shock crossed Regina's face. "Loreena Greene was the prosecutor? My... secretary?"

Snow nodded. "Archie picked her. I don't think he realized what she was like at first. It didn't take long and we all understood. I think a rabid rottweiler would have been kinder."

Regina stared at Snow as if not seeing her. Finally her head gave a sharp shake. Then in a measured, strange, barely audible voice she spoke.

"Alright, you will begin again. And this time, tell me EVERYTHING."


	69. WINNING

Snow drew in a long breath, conscious Regina was watching her with dark, unblinking eyes, and then began.

"Archie held a town hall meeting to explain the trial format. One prosecutor, one defense counsel, a judge - him - who would only intervene on points of order or to ask questions. He wouldn't decide the verdict. A committee of five - a jury I suppose you'd call it, but with a bit more power - they would be who ultimately decides your guilt or innocence. And your punishment."

Regina's eyes were hooded and if Snow didn't know any better she'd suspect none of this was news to her. But that was ridiculous. How would Regina know? She'd left town the moment the curse struck.

"So who's on this committee?" Regina asked. "A cross-section of Storybrooke's finest I presume?" Her lip curl was teasing but Snow could see uncertainty in her eyes.

"Well that  _is_  what the people wanted," Snow began hesitantly. "A mix of views from all walks of life to represent them. But surely you can guess what happened next?"

Regina's lips thinned. "Oh I think I can. The royals?"

Snow nodded and tried not to grimace as she recalled the in-fighting royals constantly behaving badly. She knew residents were starting to grumble about their entitled behavior.

"They haven't enjoyed being sidelined now they have their memories back," Snow said. "They aren't running Storybrooke, they aren't running this trial. They aren't running  _anything_. They feel useless, impotent and they don't like it at all. So the jury of your peers is  _literally_  a jury of  _your_  peers: Frederick, Abigail, Thomas - Cinderella declined because she's a new mother now so her husband volunteered, and..." her lips twitched briefly. She stopped.

"George." Regina's mouth formed a slow-motion sneer. It wasn't really a question.

Snow sighed. "They insisted, despite his vitriolic rants towards you - that he be given a chair. He was loudest so he won his way. Everyone else, the non-royal residents who had wanted to be on the committee, all backed down and withdrew their requests once their regents submitted theirs. They thought it would be disloyal not to. Or maybe they feared some form of backlash."

The thought made Snow even more annoyed. This was  _not_  how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to be united as a community.

"And why do you not seem delighted by this arrangement? Aren't all of you elated to be ruling something once more? Even if it is only overseeing my demise?"

"I swear Regina, sometimes you don't know me at all." Snow glared and folded her arms. For God's sake, as if she was like  _them_. Bickering over nonsense. Joking about the most painful ways to execute Regina. George was particularly fond of that sick game. Power plays. Stupid, endless fights. It was ... unbecoming. And  _all_  the royals were getting tarred by the same brush. Including her.

If she was honest, that's what really irritated her.

"Back to this again, dear? You're just like everyone else? Not one of the elitist crowd? Snow, whether you can see it or not, you are obtuse, spoiled and oblivious. You were as a child, too. Your wishes or whims were all that mattered. I see no evidence of change." Regina eyed her challengingly, daring her to protest.

"Really?" Snow gave her a snotty look. "And you know me  _so_  well since you drummed me out into the wilds as a teenager on trumped up charges to fend for myself."

"Give me a child of seven and I will show you the man."

"What?"

"A Jesuits saying. You really should read more. It means our personalities are set enough by age seven to know what we will be like as adults."

Snow eyed her pointedly. "Present company might suggest evidence to the contrary. Unless you were enacting curses and going on killing sprees at age seven."

She almost choked on her words, unable to believe she'd just said that out loud. Instead of rage or threats, Regina seemed almost stymied. She pursed her lips and glanced away, but not before Snow saw the flash of deep regret. The teacher's eyes widened.

Regina irritably stomped on a clod of dirt underfoot but miraculously let the comment slide. "So what happened next? Was George a bastard or did he play well with the other royals?"

Snow sighed again, this time even more heavily. "Um... there was an incident."

"Of course there was," Regina intoned dryly. "Well?" She looked up and met her eyes.

"Emma had been on the hunt for the people who kept harassing the mayor's office with death threats intended for you," Snow said. "And she'd also been trying to find those responsible for ..." she pulled her eyes away from the burning ones fixed on hers. "... tagging your house with spraypaint every other day."

Regina's neck snapped back, askance, her mouth opening. "Don't worry," Snow interjected, a hand coming up in a placating gesture to stop whatever barb was about to be hurled. "Emma has been cleaning it faithfully every day and protecting your home from other forms of vandalism."

"It's her home now," Regina said crossly. "And I fail to see how any of this has to do with my trial."

"Oh it does." Snow licked her lips anxiously. "So Emma's been a little, uhm, close to the edge lately, what with..." Snow waved her hand at Regina wordlessly. "...um, everything."

Concern flickered across the former mayor's eyes. Snow briefly wondered if she knew how transparent she now was every single time Emma's name was mentioned.

"Is she OK?" Regina asked hoarsely. " _Tell me!_ "

"She's slowly processing everything. It's a lot to take in. And not just you being ...  _you_. But me and her fath ... David. Everything."

"So what does this have to do with the trial?" Regina asked impatiently.

"One morning she got to your house and the vandals, instead of spray painting it, they'd cut down this little rope ladder off the side of the balcony." Snow's brows knitted.

_It was weird that anyone would have a ladder there. How long had it been there? What was it even for?_ She glanced at Regina to ask but thought the better of it at her outraged expression.

"So when Emma found it, all smashed up pieces on the ground, she had a, well, sort of mini meltdown."

Regina's expression grew stormy. "Meltdown..."

"She was seen by a resident who was walking his dog past your house. Emma was on the ground holding bits of the rope and wood to her chest, crying, well sobbing really, and mumbling something about 'she made this for me' and 'those fucking bastards'." Snow flushed faintly at repeating the appalling language and cleared her throat.

"Anyway the dog walker who found her immediately called Mayor Hopper, because, well, he's her boss now - and he's a-a well sort of a psychiatrist. More or less, still is, curse withstanding..."

"Get to the point."

"Oh. Well Archie rushed over and sat with her and talked to her for ages. Matt happened to be with him at the time he got the call and went too. He made some vow to find the ones responsible."

She chanced a look at Regina whose face was frighteningly stony and cold. "So anyway," Snow pushed on, "It didn't take Matt any time at all before one of the youths he used to help at the stables spilled the beans on his accomplices. Matt apparently was, ah, very persuasive. I believe an underwear change was required."

Regina glared at her with a "get on with it" look. Snow took the hint.

"It turns out he and his friends were being paid to deface your mansion regularly. And there were others being paid to send those awful notes to give the impression everyone in Storybrooke wants you dead. When Emma did a search of the home of the person they named as their employer, she found all the incriminating materials and some drafts of the threatening notes. It was really sick stuff."

Regina stared at Snow for a long moment. "Who. Was. It." she said flatly, clipping her words.

It was more a threat than a question.

Snow swallowed pensively. "George. He's vicious when angry. And vengeful. He blames you for his loss of status - among everything else."

"George," Regina repeated, her mouth twisting as though she had just swallowed a foul concoction. Her knuckles were now white balled fists sitting on her thighs and Snow had no doubt that if magic existed in Storybrooke right now sparks would be shooting from the enraged woman's body.

"He didn't hurt me," Regina ground out, "he hurt Emma. And that is a far worse crime."

Snow wished the former Evil Queen didn't look quite so ready to explode. She tried a calmer tone. "Emma's been much better though," she assured her. "You know, ever since George was caught and the attacks and letters stopped. Archie insisted George be stripped from the trial committee and then taken into custody on various charges which he said would be addressed after your trial. He's actually been cooling his heels in jail for almost three months now. And, since Emma's the sheriff, she does like to remind him he's a horse's ass on a daily basis. So there is that." Snow offered a small grin.

Regina suddenly erupted into a snort, plainly startling them both. Snow almost jumped in shock before identifying it as some sort of strangled angry laugh. "Horse's ass is accurate," Regina said, teeth gleaming as she flashed a smirk. "So, tell me who took George's place on the committee?"

"Granny. She was the town's preferred choice. And after all the disharmony about the all-royal committee, Archie agreed immediately."

"I see. So, we come to the trial," Regina said and finally unfurled her clenched firsts. "Now you will tell me how my mere, humble secretary bested the popular, people's queen."

If there was a hint of mockery in her voice at the title, Snow wisely chose to ignore it.

"Loreena Greene was prepared for everything," Snow began. "And I do mean everything. I never expected her to have such a killer instinct. We're all one Storybrooke family. Held together by our fairytale roots! I felt certain it would be more of a collegial rivalry, with the same end goal - justice, truth, healing and reconciliation for those harmed by the curse. I never thought she'd go on the offensive and attack  _me_  relentlessly like that. I mean, I'm... I thought..."

Regina laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yes, heaven forbid the whole world doesn't worship at your feet."

At Snow's stung expression, Regina sighed and in a far less derisive voice, added: "I'm sure it was shocking. Did you ever ask her why?"

"Why? No. Why would I? She was only doing her job. A little too well, sure, but ... wait..."

Snow peered at her. "Are you saying there's more?" She frowned. "It really felt like more," she muttered. Snow's mind whirred as she reviewed, day by day, all that had taken place. It wasn't pretty.

* * *

"So Michael," Loreena purred to the nervous mechanic as she peered up at him on the witness stand, "the Evil Queen stole your beloved children and tried to keep them with her in the Enchanted Forest? Correct?"

He licked his lips and croaked. "T-that's right. She had these creepy, glittery eyes and she mocked me for loving them, mocked me for wanting to keep them close to me. She didn't understand. I think she was  _insane_. Who steals a child from their parents?"

"And in Storybrooke she also tried to prevent a reunion as well, didn't she?" Loreena continued smoothly.

He nodded anxiously.

"Michael," Archie intervened kindly, "Please say 'yes' or 'no' so Rosita can write it down for the transcript." The mayor pointed to the small woman furiously tapping away in front of a transcription machine.

"I, oh, yes," Michael said, staring at the judge. His eyes swung back to Loreena. "Yes," he repeated. "She wanted to split them up and send them to separate foster homes. Even gave the sheriff some ridiculous deadline to do it in to force the issue."

"And how does that make you feel now? Knowing what you know now?"

"Sick to my stomach," he barked, anguish washing his features. His meaty fist thumped against the witness stand. "Revolted. Appalled. That bitc... woman ... stole the most precious things in my life. My family."

And then... then he began to cry. Big wails that made everyone uncomfortable. Snow looked at the scene, appalled.

Loreena rolled her chair close to him and passed the mechanic a tissue with a flourish before somberly turning around to face the court. "She stole the most precious thing in his life," she repeated, shaking her head. "Look at him. Regina Mills destroyed him. A good man, wracked with guilt now."

There was another anguished sob behind her and Loreena's eyes crinkled.

She rolled over to Snow and offered a cold, hard smile reserved only for Snow. "Your turn," she said. "Good luck, princess," she mocked in an almost inaudible whisper. It sent chills down Snow's spine.

She rose shakily and felt anxious about what she was about to do. Emma had already told her the whole backstory involving Michael. Her daughter, who was sitting beside her as she had virtually every day since the trial began, shot her a sad look which just made it all the worse.

From the left side of the court, near a quartet of royals plus Eugenia Lucas, she could feel her husband's sympathetic eyes on her and for once in her life she wished he was far away. Never able to find her.

"This must have been a nightmare for you, Michael," Snow began sympathetically, squaring her shoulders and putting her back to the ten eyes of the committee. "I'm really so sorry."

He nodded and choked back a sniffle.

"But wasn't the real reason Regina felt forced into doing her mayor-mandated duty to find your children foster homes was because you didn't want them and explicitly said so?"

Michael's eyes bugged out. "I-I just, it was the shock. So at first I said no. It was sprung on me out of the blue. I came to my senses and of course I accepted my kids."

"And what changed your mind?"

"T-the sheriff," he said pointing to her.

"The sheriff? What did she do?"

"She fought to have me take them back. I didn't understand then what I'd lost. But I do now. She put it all in perspective, y'know?"

"So if Emma, the Sheriff, hadn't fought for them, your children would have gone into foster care, and you would have simply sat back and let them go?"

"I-I..." He choked back another strangled cry and Snow had never felt more horrible. Not for the first time since the trial began she cursed Regina for forcing her into this position.

"So, to be clear, your mayor was merely acting in accordance with YOUR express wishes in Storybrooke, not defying you, but doing what YOU asked her to. Doing what you repeatedly had stated to both her and the sheriff? That you did not want these two children who had been suddenly sprung on you.

"You realise Regina's hands were tied?" Snow continued. "She legally had no other option as mayor. Exactly what did you expect her to do? Adopt them herself?"

There was an outcry as the public gallery erupted and started talking at once, drowning out Michael's horrified cry of "NO!''.

"Quiet down," Archie barked and banged a gavel. He addressed Michael. "It is a fair question, so if you will please answer it: What did you expect the mayor to do in this case with your children?"

"I ... uh... I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

Snow sat down. "Not many people do think about the duties the mayor faced. Not everything is about the curse. Is it?"

"I..." Michael tried again. "She..."

"No further questions."

Loreena waved a hand imperiously towards Archie, "One more question please?"

"Of course," Archie agreed.

"Michael why did you not know your own children in Storybrooke? Why were you in such an impossible position to begin with, a single man foisted with two children he didn't know? Why?"

"Regina," he croaked out. "That bitch and her evil, godforsaken curse. What I went through is a hell I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It was evil. Who does that to innocent children? WHO?  _They_  were the ones who suffered most. Not me."

A murmuring of assent rippled across the gallery.

"Thank you," Loreena said quietly. "And everyone here with a heart is so very sorry for what you went through." Her eyes traveled pointedly to Snow, to leave no one in any doubt who the heartless exception was.

Snow's blood boiled and she narrowed her eyes warningly. Loreena smirked as she adjusted her pale blue cashmere cardigan. She spoke sweetly to Archie without once taking her eyes off the defense counsel: "No further questions."

Snow actually felt Emma's wince as Michael stepped down. It had not gone at all well. She did not dare look at David. She was getting far too used to seeing his sympathetic gaze.

* * *

As the days rolled on, to Snow's mounting frustration, Michael's case proved to be one of the easier ones. Most witnesses involved Loreena taking Snow apart, piece by bloodied piece, mocking and ridiculing her by showing her ineptitude to the court, and leaving her in a bloodied mess on the floor.

Every night she'd go home, with a strangely quiet David, Emma and Henry, and rant at how lethal the clever attacks were. How pointed and sharp. Snow was beginning to despair. Always, always the secretary seemed one step ahead of her.

Until Emma had finally asked, baffled: "How does she know all this stuff anyway?"

"What?"

"Before the witnesses even tell their stories she knows all of it. In detail. Minute, excruciating detail. How come? It's not exactly common knowledge. I know most of the time you find out the back history when they're on the stand. She already knows  _everything_. How?"

And that was the moment Snow felt completely and exceptionally stupid. The moment she realised precisely why the mayor's secretary was always one step ahead of her.

She could not believe how naive she'd been. Loreena had been grilling them all before their giving their testimonies in court - for hours on end in some cases, it turned out. And they were only too happy to oblige if it meant Regina would be crushed.

While Snow was busily slapping her forehead, Emma immediately grabbed her cell and did a ring-around, trying to set up interviews with the remaining witnesses. But it hadn't helped. Most had no interest in assisting Regina win her case. They were polite enough, out of respect for Snow only, but they all had excuses.

By the time farmer Nate claimed he was too busy birthing a cow to attend a pre-court briefing, Emma had almost hurled her phone at the wall.

"How stupid does he think we are? I mean twice I shovelled pig shit for him when he hurt his back. Pig shit, for Christ sake! As in pigs. Of course I know his farm has no fucking cows. Oh ... Uh... Sorry Henry."

He merely nodded and no one said a word about the salty language. He slurped on his fruit juice morosely.

Snow had stared glumly at her family, out of ideas. It was oppressive. Henry had finally broken the awkward silence and given her a hug and a softly mumbled thanks.

"What for?" she'd asked, confused.

"Trying to help Mom, even if it isn't actually working. I was worried you wouldn't want her to win even though she's not Her anymore."

That had flummoxed her. She realised he was right. She wanted to win. Partly her natural competiveness and also...

"I..." Snow still didn't know how she felt about that. Her eyes locked with Emma's. She could see the same conflict and sympathy there.

"It's OK," Emma said. "She's not who she was. It's OK to not want her killed. Right? You can't be one of THEM." Her teeth bared in derision and Snow knew she meant the baying mob on the steps of Regina's mansion the day the curse broke.

Snow glanced up at her husband who for once had no opinion. He just shrugged, the confusion on his face, too.

What a mess. Now she was no longer "one of them". One of her own people. So what was she then?

The worst part was she was not even doing much good at helping Regina at all. Loreena was relentless.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she finally confessed. "And even if I do want to win, I don't know how. I'm simply a dreadful defense counsel."

No one in her family spoke. All stared at their shoes.

Snow couldn't blame them either.

* * *

Her breakthrough, when it finally came, was like a bolt from the blue.

It was Grumpy's day in court and it was going about as well as was expected. In other words, very badly. The man was shifting anxiously - clearly torn between railing furiously against Regina and making Snow look bad.

It really didn't matter. She could have told him 'looking bad' had become her forte by now. She knew her own stocks had been falling through the floor as the trial continued.

_Maybe that had been part of Regina's grand plan?_  Snow frowned, uncertain. Either way, no wonder Regina hadn't wanted Emma representing her. Snow was something to be pitied and whispered about now. She had hit rock bottom in popularity - a fact that only Loreena seemed truly pleased by.

Snow focused on her scowling witness. Loreena had already gone over Grumpy's time helping Snow evade the queen, and all the many ways Regina had made her obsession with Snow clear. The threats, the wars, the villagers' deaths. Snow's cross examination had only inadvertently dug up more bodies.

She puffed out a breath and admitted to herself she couldn't have painted a more soulless and destructive picture of Regina if she'd tried.

She'd even tried the tack that his life was better now he was no longer an indentured worker mining for no pay and with no life.

He'd merely stared at her, astonished. "I serve the realm. Don't you want that? Given YOU are my queen? I mean, hell, all the royals over the years benefit from the fairy dust we mine. You don't want us to do that?"

Snow had almost felt her skin peel from the glares coming from the royal committee, plus one chuckle. Unmistakably Eugenia's. She didn't dare look.

"That's not what I meant, Grumpy. I thought the personal freedom you now enjoy might be preferable to the life you had. You have Regina to thank for that."

"We were built to mine," Grumpy shrugged. "The upper class, the elites, the royal families all made us this way to do the work they didn't want to do. It's literally in our DNA. We are mutants, whether you want to admit it or not. We are hatched not born and nurtured, then handed a pick - created to dig, to work, and that's it."

"But during the curse you could do anything you liked!" Snow protested.

"You may not have noticed, sister, but I did, that even under the curse, none of my brothers or I deviated from our inbuilt natures. None among us sought out love, or married, nor did anything much beyond how you all created us. Even when we want to, and hell only knows, I tried to rebel once, we can't fight what's in us. We are your workers. That's it. The curse made us forget, sure, but it never once changed our true self."

"Which is?"

"To serve."

There was a murmuring from the public gallery, a disquiet that made everyone uneasy.

This time Snow could feel an almost palpable fear and fury directed her way from the other royals. Rocking the boat, ripping open cans of worms and pointing out the slave status of the dwarves - she was sure she'd hear all about it later.

She exhaled, defeated, and turned to her table to get a glass of water.

She'd bumped her table with her hip as she turned back to the glowering miner to ask another question when a small square card nudged out onto the desk from between the pages of her notepad. The card's paper stock was hand-made, expensive. Beautiful. But that's not what held her attention.

The words were typed: "Ask him about waking and finding Regina in his bedroom in Storybrooke."

Snow blinked in astonishment, and tilted the card over for Emma to read. She frowned and shrugged, confused, conveying without words that it was one story that hadn't done the rounds after any of the dwarf's many benders.

Snow eyed the card pensively, hoping like hell she wasn't about to be humiliated. Well, any further.

Her eyes flicked up to his face.

"Just one last thing: Tell us about the time you woke up and found Regina in your bedroom? In Storybrooke."

He blinked at her for a moment, looking remarkably like a hairy guppy.

"Oh, that. It's nothing," he said and shook his grizzled head.

"Nonetheless I'd like to hear it."

"I was probably drunk anyway. She told me I was asleep and seeing things. So what's the point?"

Archie leaned forward and said evenly. "Grumpy, please answer the question."

Grumpy glared at him, looking about to protest when Snow intervened.

"Please Grumpy. So Regina told you you were seeing things? What exactly were you seeing?"

He frowned and considered the question. The whole courtroom had fallen silent and seemed to lean forward as one.

"She put my heart back in," he said incredulously. "I woke up with her hand coming out of my chest and I knew my heart was back in. I could feel all these emotions I hadn't felt in years. Not since before the curse. Many years before."

Snow looked at him, shocked. "Why would she put your heart back in? I mean, why you in particular?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't only me. She actually had a sack of them, next to her on the floor. She didn't expect me to see, but I did. It was like she was doing the rounds that night."

The courtroom began to murmur in astonishment. Archie looked stunned as he thumped his gavel for quiet and then asked: "When was this?"

"Oh you know, after she changed, some time after the sheriff left. 'Member when she got a bit nicer and tried all those do-good turns? 'Round then."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Snow asked in amazement. "I mean, this was important information!"

He shrugged. "Who's gonna believe the town drunk?" He glared at the room. "Don't think I don't know what you all think of me. I mean, come on, a crazy story about the mayor shoving hearts back in while we sleep? The curse was just a wild kid's story back then."

Snow sat down, astonished. "Um, thanks, nothing else."

Loreena leaned forward.

"Why did she have a sack of hearts to start with?"

"Hell if I know. Ask her." He shrugged again.

Loreena sat back in her wheelchair, a strange look on her face. "No more questions," she muttered.

And just like that, Snow suddenly knew what it felt like to win. Or almost. Even for a minute. She couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face. She felt Emma nudge her ribs and she saw David grin at her from the corner of her eye.  _Well. That felt good._  She tucked the card from her mysterious ally in her briefcase to puzzle over later.

The next time it happened was when Dr Whale was on the stand. He'd been annoyed that his packing for a top Boston medical school had been interrupted and only reluctantly attended. As he told anyone who'd listen, with a dramatic sigh, he'd "moved on".

Under Loreena's tender ministrations, he expressed his outrage about being cursed and trapped like the rest, far from his home and family.

"I wasn't even part of this community," he complained. "And she dragged me in anyway. Cursed to look at all your ingrown toenails, sprained ankles and STDs for thirty years. So thanks for that." He glowered. "So much fun. Especially that nasty case of genital warts.  _You_  know who you are."

He huffed and Snow rolled her eyes.  _You'd think he'd be more grateful to Regina for his medical scholarship_.  _But like always, Whale only cared about Whale._

As she rose she suddenly noticed another card wedged under her notes and her eyes widened. Emma spotted it at the same time and they both read it together.

"Ask him how he came to first meet Regina. And who Regina told him was the heart collector."

Snow rose to full height and gave him a tight smile and asked about their first encounter.

"I was called in from another realm when she wanted to revive Daniel," Whale explained as if listing his menu options at Granny's. "That's her dead fiance who Cora killed when you tattled about him. She'd kept him in magical stasis."

Snow gaped, unsure where to start with that.  _Daniel? God, not again._  She felt a churning in her stomach. And 'tattled'? For God's sake...

Loreena, meanwhile, used the silence to interject: "Cora?"

"Regina's mother," Whale said helpfully and his face twisted. "Evil, heartless creature, too. Her daughter had  _nothing_  on that wicked witch. The stories old Rumpel told me of how Mommy dearest used to torture her to behave and would string her up in the air and hold her captive, well, let's just say I'm glad my father was merely a dictatorial narrow-minded asshole who hated my guts."

Half the gallery laughed, the rest gasped. Whale examined his nails for a moment, and waited as the excited court hubbub died down. He was clearly enjoying his time in the spotlight, for all his protestations. Snow felt an urge to slap him.

"Daniel?" she asked, trying to gather her thoughts. "What could you possibly do with Daniel?"

"Reanimate him," Whale said matter-of-factly as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I really believed I could if I only had a healthy enough magic heart. But Rumpelstiltskin and Jefferson convinced me to just pretend to and not try. They wanted her broken."

The courtroom fell silent as if a chill had fallen over it.

"What? Why?'' Snow asked. "Why on earth would they want to do that to a young woman whose fiance had just been murdered?"

He shrugged. "Hell if I know. It wasn't my concern. Anyway, I agreed to their terms. I wanted the heart for my own experiments. Their motives are irrelevant. The deal was done."

Snow swallowed. "So what happened to Daniel?"

"The queen eventually gave up on reanimation and buried him."

"When was this?"

"Right before she cast the curse. Or so Rumpel told me. Well,  _cackled_  more like."

"So this, all of it, was only ever about a lost love?" Snow stared at him in horror. Her own role was not insignificant.

Whale blinked. "People fight wars for less. So yes, it's as valid a reason as any other crazy reason. But even so, she should have let me get home first." His chin jutted out.

"And the hearts - who collected them?"

"Cora. She went on to become the Queen of Hearts in Wonderland."

More excited talking filled the courtroom.

Snow stared, trying to process it all. She'd never truly known Cora. That much was clear. "So to clarify, they weren't Regina's hearts?"

"A couple were, I guess. But she really wasn't into it. I know one time - she shuddered, physically shuddered, when she showed us the wall of hearts. They were Cora's and Regina told us so."

Snow flopped back in her seat and stared, gaping.

"Are there any more questions?" Archie asked looking as stunned as everyone else.

"No. No more questions." Snow looked around the courtroom at the hushed, startled faces.

Archie peered at Loreena. "Your witness?"

The prosecutor stared numbly off into space and waved her hand, shaking her head. "No questions."

* * *

From that moment on, it was a turning point. Loreena would savage her case, Snow would look useless and pathetic. Then a card would appear and she would have the perfect ammunition to win. The secretary would stare at her, as if unsure what truck had just hit her. And suddenly just give in.

Snow wouldn't be human if she didn't admit she was beginning to live for these moments.

They were nearing the end. It was Friday afternoon and she had closed her briefcase after Archie had asked repeatedly if anyone else wanted to come forward and share their stories. No more listed witnesses were left. And no one else on a spur of the moment spoke up.

Closing arguments were listed for the Monday. Everyone headed home.

Snow was looking forward to a quiet night, but it wasn't to be. Emma was in one of her manic moods and had turned up armed with maps and notes and demanding a cold case with her to find Regina.

And before long, Snow had the likely location of someone she needed to visit.

* * *

Snow stopped recounting her tale and eyed Regina, who had the faintest of smiles on her face.

"So I have a benefactor after all?" the former mayor asked. "Someone who wants me to win."

Snow looked at her for a moment, faintly unhappy at the singular use of "someone".

"Someone  _else_  you mean."

Regina cocked her head. "Well I had hoped my son didn't want me dead, too."

"Nor Emma."

Regina's smug expression fell away and yet again Snow was struck by how vulnerable she could sometimes appear.

"She said that?'' Regina asked softly.

"Yes."

Regina sighed and tossed the dregs of her coffee into the fire. "I find it is hard for me to believe that. Given this. You." She flung out a hand as if that explained everything.

Snow's eyebrows lifted in question.

Regina sighed and spelled it out. "Why isn't she here and not you, dear?"

Ah.

Snow looked away, dropping her eyes. "As I said before, I suspect Emma doesn't know how to bounty hunt well in the wilds," she suggested.

"Mmm," Regina replied, unconvinced. She gave Snow a curious look. "So no one else wants me alive then?"

For a moment, confronted with that challenging expression that always filled her with dread over the years, Snow desperately wanted to lie. But, no. Their relationship had been much improved in the past year. She wouldn't lie now - no matter how easy it would be to dodge the uncomfortable questions that would probably follow.

"I don't want you dead, Regina. Shocking, I know. That's a discussion for another time. But I do want to know why you never told me what happened with Daniel."

Rage briefly flashed across the other woman's face and Snow visibly flinched. "I told you that you were oblivious."

Snow waited for more, but nothing followed.

"I don't think I am," she finally protested. "And be fair, Regina. How can a child understand all that is going on around her? How was I ever supposed to know what your mother was really like? A collector of hearts? A torturer? How could I know that?"

Regina stared at her and for a moment it seemed like she would launch into a litany of her faults. Instead she drew in a deep breath and said with a strangled voice, "You never asked."

Snow bit her lips and said "But..."

"No." Regina shook her head. "You never asked about Daniel's disappearance. You never asked about Gold's arrival around court. You never asked about the bruises - and I know you saw them after a Cora visit, or about why I'd been crying the morning after a night spent with your father. You. Never. Asked. It didn't concern you. You only cared about you. Having your shiny new mother who met your starry-eyed specifications, my feelings be damned. That's all you cared about."

"No, that's not true! I cared. I do care about people's feelings." Snow hated how pleading she sounded. Regina always did this to her. Reduced her to her childlike state. It was frankly pathetic.

"Really? Shall we put your obliviousness to the test?" A slow, dangerous smile danced at the edges of Regina's lips.

"I... my what? How?"

"Show me one of my benefactor's cards from the trial. Do you have one?"

"I... Yes. In my briefcase, in the car."

Regina looked at her pointedly.

"Well I'll go and grab one."

"You do that, dear."

Snow brought back several cards - she'd kept them all, hoping they might yield a clue to the giver. They had not. Beyond the beautiful paper stock there was nothing else to identify them.

The moment Regina took them in her hands, her mouth curled into an amused smirk. "As I suspected. Lovely paper, isn't it?"

"You know whose these are?"

"Oh I should think so. I bought them after all."

"They're yours?!"

"No. They were a gift. I was feeling benevolent. And it was Secretary's Day."

"Sec... you... These are  _Loreena's_?!''

"Most definitely. Now, dear, about that obliviousness of yours. I think perhaps it's time you called the prosecutor to the witness stand, don't you?"

"Uh... is that even allowed?"

Regina shrugged. "It's a truth hearing. Does this not involve getting to the truth?"

Snow sagged and stared at the card. "I don't understand."

Regina smiled widely. "Oh, but  _I_  do." She leaned back casually. "And I think I would give almost anything to be there the moment that you do, too."

 


	70. INVISIBLE

Loreena Greene kept a neat, well-ordered house. It came complete with a row of plaster ducks affixed to the floral wallpaper, a dark wood antique desk, and two haughty long-tailed Siamese cats she was forever trying not to roll onto. Oddly, she had never named them.

They had promptly died the day after the curse was lifted. Time might have frozen, but the animals' small, fragile joints and imperfect, slowly decaying bodies were still moving, jumping, eating, running every single day for three decades.

So when time had suddenly blasted forward in one gasping, shuddering breath, all those borrowed years had finally caught up with them.

If she was honest, Loreena couldn't bring herself to feel too sad. She hadn't been much of an animal person. The animals came with the curse, much like the house. Regina's particular sense of humour, she supposed. Turning her into a cat lady.

She couldn't bring herself to be indignant, either. The house she'd acquired in the curse was the third largest in Storybrooke, even if no one had ever noticed it was hers. Ridiculous, really, having so much space given she never entertained. She rarely entered most of its rooms. She had never taken the cover off the outdoor griller. With no friends to socialize with, why on earth would she?

The luxury indoor pool never so much saw a bared toe. She couldn't lower herself to ask for help getting out of it. So, like so much in her life, there it sat. Ignored.

She knew why Regina had done it. The mansion, the cats, the well-paid, respectable job, the pool. It was the closest thing to an apology an evil queen could muster while admitting nothing so tawdry as regret.

So the day the purple swirls came and went, Loreena Greene had lain in her opulent, curse-created, king-sized bed staring up at her grand ceiling, thinking. She considered the full import of what she had received in her new life. What she had - or rather, had not - done with herself. It settled on her like a heavy weight.

She'd wasted her second chance.

A moment later, as the memories rushed in of a different life lived in another time and place, she wished she could unknow it all. It was wrenching. The bitter tears fell unheeded down her faintly lined cheeks. She brushed them away, feeling the wrinkled imperfections of her face. She would get older now, she noted abstractly in some distant part of her mind.

Loreena had stared balefully up at her ceiling. She could see a furry layer of dust mocking her from the beautiful exposed ceiling beams. She'd never once cleaned them, nor got anyone in to reach up there for her.

No one ever visited, she realised. Not just friends. No hired help either. Absolutely no one. No one even knew where she lived. Well, not quite true. But the only person who knew had neither commented on her way of life nor intruded on it in any way.

That's not to say the town's mayor left her alone in the curse years. At work, it was a different matter.

Regina Mills, Loreena gradually discovered, had a secretly amused, faintly twisted side to her and enjoyed riling her employee whenever she was bored. Or at least she had done so before the Swan woman had hit town and captured the mayor's every waking moment of attention.

Loreena had an arsenal of useful skills, but one she truly excelled at was an ability to invisibly observe and see that which was not readily apparent to others. If she had been a betting woman - which she was not as she steered well clear from all forms of addictive distractions (they dulled one's mind) - Loreena would have predicted the mayor would have gone to her grave never knowing what she truly felt for one Emma Swan.

Loreena had known the first moment of Swan's arrival that the spark of rage in her boss's eyes hid something much more - something lustier, perhaps, but even deeper than that and Regina was ...  _interested_. Definitely interested. It vibrated almost imperceptibly out of her like a speaker thrumming with low bass notes. And the sheriff, equally clueless, with her smart, fearless mouth and cheap, absurdly tight jeans that never failed to draw the mayor's eye, vibrated on the same frequency.

Something had shifted, though, six months later. A dark and desperate tortured dynamic had sprung up between them. Loreena, ever the soul of discretion, did what she had always been expected to do. Her job. Without comment.

And if the sheriff suddenly went around sporting nicks, scrapes and bruises and, later, lifeless, unwashed hair and clothes hanging off her frame; and if the mayor appeared shattered and sad, with dark circles under her eyes, Loreena chose not to speculate to anyone.

Including herself.

Only the loose lips of an angry newspaper editor, boozily placed near her ear after a long night of imbibing when he reeled into her office, had offered any explanation as to what had passed between the two headstrong women one cruel afternoon on a staircase.

It was another thing Loreena Greene very much wished she could unknow.

She shuddered and returned her thoughts to pleasanter memories of the mayor she knew so well. She was efficient, ruthless, mercurial and faintly mischievous, in her slightly twisted way, when no one else could possibly know. She was never playful in front of another soul, Loreena knew, and not even in front of her son whom Regina felt needed protecting from all but the most controlled side of herself.

Loreena offered no opinion on that either. She understood the need for the illusion and appearance of control, even if it was incorrectly and abrasively applied at times in Henry's case.

Besides, it wasn't Loreena's place to comment. It's not like she and the mayor were ... friends.

Loreena almost smiled - but stopped herself in time - when she thought back to that one day the mayor had placed, on the opposite wall in the secretary's office, a picture of Regina cutting a ribbon at some meaningless event.

Loreena's out-of-focus, side-eyeing look of disdain at the mayor's showboating had been forever captured in the image, which caused Regina to offer a rare bark of laughter the first time she'd noticed, and forever more to smirk each time she walked past the picture.

But that's not why she'd hung it in her secretary's direct line of sight. In the background of the photo, wrapped in a mutual tangle of saccharine, handsy affection, stood the two eternally heartsick Charmings.

Loreena had a visceral, appalled response each time she clapped eyes on this monument to vanilla human perfection. Mary Margaret Blanchard, with her often pious, unknowingly condescending expression bestowed on lesser mortals, never ceased to chill her to the bone. And that chill factor came without knowing anything of their past entanglement.

Some visceral responses transcended even curses, it seemed. And wasn't that interesting, Loreena mused much later. Dwarves did not date in any time frame, and, even without any back history, she still felt antipathy for one royal in particular.

At the time Loreena had first eyed the photo, Regina had perfectly lined it up on the wall and stepped back to admire its deliberately irksome placement.

The secretary had suggested, as casually as she could muster, jaw clenching, that the mayor might prefer to gaze upon the lovebirds in her own office. Regina's eyes had danced devillishly as she countered that she did not wish to deprive her secretary of the pleasure.

Loreena had glowered, then almost pleaded, (well she had said 'please' at least), all to no avail. Regina's lips curved slightly and brown eyes sparkled.

_Fantastic_. Loreena's irritation was to be an ongoing source of amusement to her boss. She scowled. Mayor Mills had swung her hips jauntily as she turned back to swish into her office accompanied by an actual laugh.

As Loreena watched her go, she admitted she couldn't entirely hate witnessing the brief moment of pleasure from the usually controlled, uptight woman. (Not that she'd ever admit that to a living soul.)

After Regina had fled Storybrooke, Loreena had examined the photo again with a new eye. It wasn't about cutting a ribbon, she realised. It wasn't even about mocking her secretary's distaste for that teacher and her dullard man-boy by forcing Loreena to look at it every day. Oh no.

It was about winning.

The mayor stood proudly in front of her nemesis, Snow White, triumphant victor in a sea of pathetic minions that she exclusively ruled. She. Had. Won.

No wonder she'd looked smug.

The secretary could appreciate that. Beating a nemesis? She understood the desire better than anyone knew. Better than anyone except Regina Mills.

If Archie Hopper had half a brain he would have realised she'd never specified who in the photo she particularly hated. And he would have realised it was significant she'd never taken it down when Regina had gone, despite professing a loathing for the royals in it.

But like most people in this town, he was a fool. The only person she had ever remotely respected (and even that was not a constant) had exited town in the last swirls of a lifting curse.

* * *

A loud knock at her front door jolted Loreena out of her reverie. To say she was startled was the understatement. No one ever came to her home. Heart thudding, she rolled to the door and cracked it open.

Her face twisted in recognition.  _Speak of the vanilla devil._

"Yes?" she asked coolly.

"Loreena," a tight voice asked. "Can I talk to you?"

"I believe you've already answered your own question."

"Loreena," came an irritated sigh. A delicate hand ran through dark hair.

"Snow," the secretary exhaled with finality and tried to close the door. A booted foot stopped her.

There was a stand-off for a few minutes before Loreena finally broke it.

"I won't ask you in," she said.  _To hell her first guest in thirty years would be a woman she loathed._

Snow rolled her eyes. "Look I came to say I want to put you on the stand on Monday."

Loreena stared at her. "Why?"

"I think you know." She held up a white card - from Loreena's personal set. She'd loved them the moment she'd been given them by Regina on Secretary's Day. The mayor had thudded the card boxset on her desk in a show of indifference, accompanied simply by "Here''.

Loreena had failed to immediately tamp down her obvious delight and Regina had looked at her knowingly - clearly pleased. Neither had spoken of the cards after that, much to their mutual relief.

But here these cards were again. So. Snow knew. She had a strong suspicion as to how - which meant Regina also knew.

A small wave of relief washed over her. Loreena had never wanted Regina to think her being the prosecutor was an attack on her former boss. Well it was, technically, but it was never about her. Regina probably now knew precisely what she was up to, and why.  _So ... good. This was good._

Loreena made a show of contemplating Snow's request despite already knowing the answer.

"I'll do it if you do the same next."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I can't be on the stand," Snow sputtered. "I'm the defense counsel!"

"And I'm the prosecutor. Your point?"

"I... I can't."

"You know Regina better than anyone. It's appalling you haven't testified yet. We can't force you, I know. But that's my price for answering your doubtlessly kindergarten-level questions. Unless you're afraid of what I'll ask you?"

Snow's eyes narrowed at the challenge. "Don't be ridiculous. You do not scare me."

"Well then?"

Snow glared for a beat before finally sagging. "Fine." She turned to leave.

"One last thing - how did you know where I lived?"

"Your friends told me..."

"Liar."

"I spoke to Archie..."

"Your mayor has no idea where I live."

Snow's face collapsed.  _She was a dreadful liar._  Loreena smirked at the sight. Good information to know if she was to be questioning her soon.

"Fine. Emma snuck into the mayor's office and cracked the personnel records from the locked filing cabinet. Look, we could have sprung this request on you on Monday but it didn't seem fair. You don't have a phone and I didn't know what else to do to reach you. Besides, this isn't some stupid TV courtroom drama where everyone gasps when I suddenly call your name. It's called being civilized. I'm civilized."

Loreena bit back a sneer.  _Civilized? For God's sake. Next she'll explain she's Joan of bleeding Arc._

"I see. So is the sheriff going to arrest herself for break and entry?" Loreena enquired mockingly. "Since you did just confess to her crime."

Snow sighed and glowered darkly. "You're welcome for the head's up. See you on the stand."

"Hmmph." Loreena shut the door, locking it just to hear the vicious sound of the dead bolt clunking coldly into place.

She considered what lay ahead as she rolled towards her study. She had much to prepare.

* * *

Loreena Greene took to the stand with a little too much relish for Emma's liking. The sheriff watched the opening sneer directed at Snow and had a very bad feeling about what lay ahead. The blonde has caught perps acting just like this and almost all of them had an ace up their sleeve. She still had the scar from one such sharp, hidden 'ace'.

The day had not begun well already. Emma had had to thread her way through Storybrooke's first ever civil rights protest - complete with dodgy hand-painted signs.

"Dwarves are people too'', "End the slavery", "Shame, Storybrooke, shame'', "Send the royals to the mines instead".

Emma quite liked the last one, if only to picture George's face when handed a pick-ax and told to go dig some fairy dust. Until she remembered, technically, she was a royal too.

_Well hell._  Emma scowled.

The chanting had gone up to a dull roar and when the trial committee members began making their way up the steps. Frederick and Abigail looked like thunder, Thomas seemed bemused and askance. Cinderella was with him, holding her newborn in one arm and his hand in her other, looking bewildered.

Eugenia, although walking with the enraged royals, was cackling with laughter the entire way up the steps.

Some pushing and shoving resulted in someone getting a little too handsy and Abigail spun around to confront them.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" She glared at a greasy young teen with even greasier fingers.

"Hey it's a free world, lady!"

Genius comeback, Emma thought scornfully.

"'Lady!'?" Frederick turned and bellowed.

_Uh oh._

"She's your  _princess_  you impudent little shi..."

_Oh fuck, just what they all needed. A class warfare brawl._  Emma tried to push her way forward to Frederick's position but the writhing sea of people with sharp elbows and even sharper sign edges made the going tricky.

"Hey, she aint MY princess, so dude you can back off."

"Did you just call my husband a 'dude?' Show some respect you ignorant troll!"

_Double fuck._

"MAKE WAY!" A third voice bellowed and the crowd turned to see David strong-arming his way through the protestors, pulling Snow closely to him.

Emma grimaced. She wondered if he realised what a complete ass he looked, striding imperiously like that. He wasn't like this most of the time. Well, not usually. But when he thought he had to act kingly, well... he kind of overcompensated.

When one larger man with an anti-nukes shirt clenching his wide belly refused to budge, David glared. "Out of the way," he said stiffly, jaw sticking out. "My wife needs to get through."

"Don't be a dick, your majjjjesty, Just go 'round."

David's eyes widened. "I've asked politely now I'm telling you like I mean it."

"David," Snow pleaded tiredly, "Don't."

"Or what?'' No-nukes man demanded. His gaudily painted sign involved sending royals to mines and doing other things to them that sounded not only unpleasant but physically improbable.

_Hmm_ , Emma paused, distracted,  _maybe Dr Whale knew if they were possible?_

Whale was also in the crowd, with a "wouldn't have missed this shitstorm for the world" smirk on his face. So much for having "moved on".

David's eyes finally caught sight of the man's sign. "You want us to slave away in the mines?" he sputtered. "And ... and..." His eyes widened as he read the far cruder, scrawled addendum.

"If it's good enough for your loyal dwarves, isn't it good enough for you?" another protestor, a girl in her twenties, shouted.

"I-I," David was almost insensate with rage by now. Emma finally reached his side and eyed Snow, whose look of frustration screamed volumes.

"Hey, you guys," Emma she said flicking a cautious glance between both parents, "Let's just go inside and get this business done, OK?"

"Did you see what he did?" David sputtered, jabbing a thumb towards the sign waver.

"Yeah, yeah, he blocked your path, insulted your manhood, painted a crude sign a six-year-old would giggle at, I get it. But can we go inside now?''

"Emma don't be rude to your father," Snow said crossly.

The sheriff's eyes bugged out. The beefy protestor snickered.

"And you," Snow snapped, pointing at him, "Stop being rude to my family or so help me..."

"What? You'll send ME to the mines, too? You royals are so ..."

"I haven't sent ANYONE anywhere. This is slander."

Emma sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Emma forced her mind back to the present. At the moment they were stalled on Loreena's name. If she had one in Fairytale Land, she wasn't sharing. Apparently, as far as Emma could tell, this act of withholding names was considered very rude.

"You should already know who I am," Loreena was declaring, eyes glittering. "I know who you all are. I saw you daily. How is it none among you recognises me? Was I invisible there?"

At the mention of the word 'invisible' Emma noted the woman's chin did the faintest wobble and her face filled with rage.  _Huh_.

Snow sighed and faced the public gallery, "Does anyone recognise Loreena from the old world?" she asked.

Silence filled the room and Snow turned back to look at the mayor. "Can't you make her tell us?"

Archie looked at Loreena thoughtfully. "What name were you born under?" he asked kindly.

"Loreena Greene."

Snow threw her hands up in frustration and the courtroom roared its displeasure.

"Quiet down," Archie barked. He turned back to her. "Are you telling us that you are the only person in Storybrooke Regina didn't give a new name to? Why is that?"

Loreena shrugged. "I'd suggest you ask her but that is a little problematic now since no one knows where she is."

She paused and gave a slow, malicious smile and stared right at Emma who felt her guts clench. "Well Snow does. She's visited her quite recently, isn't that right?"

The courtroom erupted in surprise and Emma felt her heart drop into her shoes. Even before she turned to look at the woman sitting beside her, she felt Snow flinch.

"Is that true?" she demanded. At her mother's pale face and apologetic expression, she had her answer.

"How could you," Emma hissed. "You knew how hard I was looking and all this time you KNEW? And you visited her?!"

"Emma I can explain..."

"ORDER!" Archie had finally gotten irritated at the rest of the room's clamor and was looking close to losing his cool. A first.

"You will stop talking in the public gallery or I will clear this court." he glared at them all. The noise immediately died down.

"We are getting sidetracked," he said and glanced between Emma and Snow. A hint of sympathy crossed his face. "Snow is more than entitled to know where Regina is and visit her given Regina is her client. This is in no way improper, in fact, it's desired. It reassures the court that Regina is being kept informed and will be ready and available to return when the verdict is ready. Now let's get back to the matter at hand.

"Miss Greene, you say your name was the same here as well as there. If we accept that, would I be correct in assuming that you were also known by a different name? Given no one in this room recognizes you by your birth name?"

Loreena's mouth twisted unpleasantly, although something approaching respect at his accuracy flitted across her features.

"Yes. I had a nickname - not of my choosing. I do not wish to repeat it now."

Archie eyed her thoughtfully for a beat.

"Miss Greene would I also be right in suspecting this other name, the nickname we know you by, will come out before your testimony is over?"

For a moment she looked a little startled. Her lips pursed. "You are probably right, Mayor."  
And for the first time in three months she didn't lace his title with disdain.

"Well then," Archie looked back at Snow, "For reasons best known to Miss Greene, she doesn't at this moment wish to disclose her identity. Shall we move on? For instance, you could tell us why she's even on the stand to start with on a day we had intended to use for closing arguments."

Snow licked her lips as she shuffled through her papers.

"Why did you decide to be the prosecutor," she asked the witness, "Given I have reason to believe you want Regina to get off and are deliberately tanking your prosecution."

The gasps that filled the room were almost funny. Archie shot the gallery another dark look. Loreena laughed derisively.

"Did I not provide you with a vigorous prosecution and tear down all your pedestrian arguments, exposing them - and you - as utterly inferior?"

"I ... Uh..."

"Miss Greene, please answer the questions without the personal insults."

"Facts are insults now? Fine. I meant to say I believe I provided the court with an aggressive prosecution, exactly as desired, from day one, challenging the defense to make its case every step of the way. I fail to see how any of this can constitute so-called 'tanking'. I was vigorous and determined and spared no quarter, Do you, Mayor, see any evidence that I have been soft as prosecutor? Or does anyone in this room?"

Emma looked around the room and saw plenty of head shakes, then turned back to Archie.

"I believe you have fulfilled your responsibilities as required, Miss Greene," he agreed. "I also notice you did not answer the first part of Snow's question. Why did you decide to be prosecutor?"

Loreena glared at the trial committee. "For several reasons, actually. I felt the royals should be exposed for what they are - pathetic and selfish. Not better than us, but worse. And one in particular needed to be shown a mirror."

Her eyes turned and fixed steadily on Snow. "One in particular who thinks she knows what's best for everyone and lacks even the most basic empathy to understand that she is wrong."

Snow's mouth dropped open in surprise and a denial perched on her lips. Emma thought she finally understood what the expression 'stunned mullet' meant.

Loreena's face twisted. "A better question is  _when_  I decided to be prosecutor, not why."

She paused and her eyes slid derisively over Snow. "On the steps, outside Regina's home the morning of the curse lifting. We all had our letters, we each had a bean. And what did the lauded, beloved Snow White think to do first?"

Her eyes flicked around the room. "Prevent us from using them. Attrmpt to determine our paths for us."

There was a low muttering around the room and a few nods. Snow's mouth was still hanging open and Emma wondered if she even realised how she looked.

"She, as a royal, one of the elite, wanted to decide FOR us. She wanted us to, what did she say? Come together as a community and decide as one. And we all know she didn't mean take a vote. She meant she, as a royal, possibly with other royals, should decide what would be best for all of us. For her. For them. Having us all fracture and run off as individuals doesn't exactly give her a kingdom of minions to rule now does it?"

"That is NOT why I suggested that," Snow jumped to her feet, outraged. "We are a family, we should stick together. Go back home together!"

"Snow, you'll get your chance to question Miss Greene soon, please let her finish," Archie interceded.

"Oh yes, one big happy family," Loreena mocked. "You get to decide that we should all go back together, all in, one in. But even if you were to announce that we had to put it to the people's vote and that what the majority decides, we all do, HOW DARE YOU?

"Do you ever think outside your safe, royal bubble? Ever think what it must be like for the dwarves forced back to their mines, the less fortunate with no education or opportunities to go back to their gruelling lives of hardship in that world?

"What it might be like for a-a ... penniless woman who can't use her legs, forced to beg, dirty, ignored, invisible on the muddied streets. There are no wheelchairs in Fairytale Land. No internet access to have painkilling medications or shopping and food sent to your home.

"There's no healthcare at all for the poor, no benefits or pensions, no one to help me drag myself home with only the use of my arms, through ruts and muddied fields, to my father's house where I'd get thrown the scraps of peelings the pig didn't want. And I'd get a brutal cuff around the ear if my begging bowl wasn't full."

She took in a shuddering breath and glared at the room. "But by all means, Snow White, decide for all of us how our lives must be. Thank you so much dear, dear Queen Snow. We bow to your mercy and wisdom."

There was a heavy silence and finally a small voice at the back of the room, a little boy of maybe eight, cried out: "Hey, she's Crips! Loreena's actually Crips!"

This time the gasps and hubbub was deafening and the entire room broke into chatter. Archie looked too stunned for a moment to do anything.

"Who the hell is Crips?" Emma asked Snow in confusion.

"A poor, lame beggar woman in the market square," Snow whispered back shakily. "She had this long straggly, matted hair that covered her face and she was dirty, often covered in old newspapers."

"Oh," Emma mumbled at her mother who looked shaken.

Archie's gavel finally came down and the room instantly fell silent, too worried they'd be evicted before they heard what happened next.

"Continue," he said softly to the witness.

"So on the steps of Mayor Mills's house, when confronted with the very real and very horrifying thought I would be sent back there, against my will if Snow had her way, I decided I would do everything in my power to fight her.

"When, shortly after, it was revealed she would be defending Regina I immediately decided to be prosecutor, so that I could expose her for the poor leader she is, and the even worse human being, given most humans have the basic decency and awareness to consider what life might be like for others less fortunate than themselves."

"HEY!" David was on his feet now, outraged on behalf of his wife, who looked completely stricken and kept whispering, "Oh my God."

"SIT!" Archie demanded. At David's reluctance to comply with the order, which admittedly had sounded like a dog command, Matt suddenly lept to his feet nearby. "You will do what Arch says or so help me you won't be able to sit, stand or crawl for a month."

David promptly sat.

Archie tilted his head in a gesture of thanks to his husband and then eyed Loreena closely. "I see I misunderstood when you told me you had an issue with 'one royal in particular'. May I ask why you seem not to care about bringing down Regina in your efforts to discredit Snow? Or do you also hate her? If so, why?"

"I dislike all the royals. They are all pathetic in their own way. But since you ask, I will explain. Frederick is all about his ego and loves to get into pissing contests with George. For the record, gentlemen, no one here cares whose is bigger - be it your kingdoms or anything else," she sneered as Frederick glared back at her.

"George is a sadist who would do absolutely anything for riches. He even took a horny duke to bed once to extend his credit line, then killed him later just to keep his mouth shut. Of course he forgets the chambermaids have eyes, and chambermaids sometimes chatter to lame beggars they assume to be mute halfwits.

"Abigail has little interest in anyone below her station and has a father who wields power like a weapon. A man with the power to literally create gold out of thin air and eliminate poverty and what does he do with it? Shores up his political position. Does mean-spirited deals. Witholds. Treats everyone like a possession, including his own daughter who he wanted married off to suit his political whims."

Abigail's lips were in a thin line of disapproval when Emma shot her a look.

"Then there's Thomas, a fool and a fop who drained his realm's resources on frivolous balls and women and wine, all to find his 'true love'. People just love paying taxes to fund royal balls, Your Majesty."

The man flushed hot red.

"Cinderella just wanted a husband, and didn't even know Thomas before she said 'I do'. Shallow doesn't begin to cover her life's ambitions. I'd worry about motherhood dulling her IQ except they don't measure IQs in the negatives."

Emma stiffened in horror at the young royal's mortification and Archie opened his mouth to interject when Loreena apologised. Sort of.

"I am sorry dear - you can't help it. I'm also sorry that the truth hurts, but the mayor did ask why I loathe you all. David isn't even a royal - but an imposter who spends his time overcompensating for his unroyal birth by striding about spouting manly speeches, except he's stupider than a heat-stroked squirrel."

"Miss Greene ..."

"But he's really not that bad when you consider his (now mercifully departed) twin brother who was the true asshole. I know. I have begged outside the brothels he frequented - he once reeled out drunk and relieved himself all over my legs. When I protested, he told me to stop pretending I didn't like it. Oh yes, the royals are to be revered for sure."

"That just leaves Regina. She was by far the best of them - and yet she was the only one you all called 'evil'. How little you truly know your monarchs. So no, I do not want her brought down," Loreena finished, "I wish her to be allowed to live.

"I also wish for Snow to be as humiliated as she once made me. And, yes, I can do both things at once. After all, I'm not a man." She grinned unpleasantly as if proud she had insulted all the royals and 50 per cent of the courtroom in one fell swoop.

"Humiliated?" Snow sputtered in astonishment, at the same time Archie asked "Both?"

The mayor held up his hand to Snow and raised an eyebrow at the witness. "What do you mean 'both things'. You're supposed to be the prosecutor!"

"I confess that I have assisted Snow anonymously with the last four witnesses."

She did not even look slightly remorseful.

Archie blinked at her in astonishment which matched the expressions throughout the courtroom.

"You cannot now accuse me of not doing my job when you have already acknowledged I did it well. But I decided, oh, four witnesses ago, that I had probably made my point about the failings of the exalted Snow and it was time to get the only royal who was ever halfway decent to me a fair chance at winning. Snow was clearly incapable of doing it unaided."

Snow rose shakily to her feet. "You have made a lot of accusations and slung a lot of mud, but how can I believe a word of what you say if I don't even have any memory of some supposed betrayal."

"Actually you have betrayed me twice - once on the steps to the mayor's home when you tried to deny me the right to choose my own fate. And once when you gave me the cruelest gift of all."

"What?" Snow looked at her fearfully. "I don't remember giving you a gift. I never gave you anything."

"Oh but you did. A new name. I believe you were twelve. Out with your beautiful mother Eva to see the markets in your land. You were a stunning pair. I bet you didn't know this but we all knew you were coming. The royal guards had been by a week before to tell us to be on our best behaviour. One even urged me to stay at home that day so as not to 'frighten the pretty little princess' with my deformity.

"My deformity," Loreena snapped. "I was born like this. Father had thrust the begging bowl in my hand at age eight and told me I would get a clip around the ears if I didn't fill it every day. He was many objectionable things but he was no liar. I was beaten often.

"At the market one would hear stories, of fairies and magic and impossible spells. And also of wonderful princesses. I used to wish every day as a girl, clutching tightly my begging bowl, that I would one morning wake up with legs as perfect as those of the fabled Snow White.

"I had this fantasy that if I could only meet Snow she might even be able to help me. She was reportedly so kind and sweet and generous, and she had royal doctors and a family friend who was the Blue Fairy, and between them all, they could even ..."

Loreena gestured to her legs. "Fix me."

"The day I knew Snow was visiting the market I got ready. I 'borrowed' one of the neighbour's daughter's dresses - it wasn't terribly pretty but it was clean and better than the ragged pants I had. The only problem was it showed my twisted bare legs and I worried young Snow would be disgusted, just like the royal guard had said.

"But I was desperate to make a good impression and so I reassured myself that this wasn't just any little girl, this was Snow White. A princess who was good and true, and she would see beyond my outside ugliness and listen to my plea with an open heart."

Loreena gave a bitter laugh. "Ah, the innocence of youth...

"I was in my usual place at the market, beside the fish monger, my hair washed and as neat as I could make it given we had no running water at home, and I was in the fresh dress. Legs all twisted and strange and on display for the first time. I looked different enough that everyone used to seeing me all stared. Everyone. But I tried not to care because I was clinging to my fantasy.

"And then I saw her, with her mother. She was as beautiful as the stories. She took my breath away. And she turned just then and ... Snow looked right at me."

The adult Snow was gaping at Loreena, a horrified expression on her face.

"Ah I see you remember at last. Shall I ask you to repeat what happened next?"

Snow shook her head numbly.

Loreena pursed her lips and looked past her to the wider room.

"Wise. So the pretty little princess saw me. I looked at her hopefully. I'd practiced my best greeting and my request that she help me see her magical fairy or her royal doctors. But before I opened my mouth she pointed. I saw her tug on her mother's sleeve, her face morphing into distaste. She pointed at my legs and I heard one word above them all. Above the cries of fishmonger, the calls of the green grocer and the fiery loud bangs and clangs of the blacksmith.

"The cripple, Mama, look at the horrible cripple."

"Snow, you mustn't say such things. The unfortunate girl can't help her deformities," I heard the queen reply," Loreena said, her breath harsh.

"But she looks awful. And she's all smelly - she smells of fish," Snow said and she screwed up her face.

"Her mother looked appalled and said: 'Snow White, what's wrong with you? Be grateful you're not her. Now come along.' She tugged the girl's arm, but Snow twisted around for a parting blow.

"But, Mama, the cripple..."

Loreena swallowed. "The cripple. That's what I was to her. All I was to her. I know she was a child. But then so was I, only two years older. And despite my harsh life to that date, I would never have dreamed of doing to another person what she had just done to me."

A tear threatened to leak and Loreena blinked her eyes angrily. "One of the more vicious delinquent youths had also heard and, as loud as could be, he cried out 'Hey, the princess called her 'cripple'!''

"The children all laughed. The mothers looked embarrassed but still stared. The fathers smirked or chuckled. My face flushed as crimson as could be and still they all stared and laughed. Some even pointed. I wanted to die. Every dream or hope I had shriveled and suffocated as I dragged my broken body home.

"I heard the word over and over. I ripped the dress off when I was inside and went and hid. But for hours it was all I could hear. Cripple. It felt like everyone in town had heard and knew what their darling princess had said.

"When my father returned home, hours later, he shouted for me. He called out: 'Get in here Crips.' He'd heard the story in the pub. And, ever after, that became my new name."

Loreena's tear-brimmed eyes looked accusingly up at Snow and she said nothing more.

Snow buried her face in her hand and shook her head.

The entire room was deathly quiet.

Archie finally cleared his throat. "Do you wish for a brief break?"

Loreena said a quiet "no".

He glanced at Snow and at no sign of movement or a question from the defense, he asked his own question.

"How do you know Regina?"

With a voice thick with unshed tears the secretary composed herself.

"Our paths crossed more than once," she said. "It was years after my 'renaming', and Snow by then was on the run. The first time occurred when one of the oafish members of her personal guard didn't see me and trampled on me with his horse.

"I was in a lot of pain and called him a few choice insults. The bastard got off his horse, sword drawn, and offered to finish the job his horse had started.

"I was shouting back, calling him a coward for threatening to run through a cripple, and various other curses, when Regina strode up and demanded to know what was going on. He lied through his teeth and said I was just causing trouble.

"She took one long, assessing look at me, all defiant and shaking with rage even though I couldn't stand up to him - literally, and I told her that his horse had run over my legs. She knelt down, hooking her long finger under the hem of my pant leg, slowly drawing the rags up, to reveal my bare leg.

"I was so humiliated. I knew my legs were mangled and grotesque, but her face didn't show revulsion. She pointed to a horseshoe-shaped bruise and turned on her guard.

"She ordered him back to the palace and told him to put himself on report. And she said he had to walk all the way back. Twenty miles! To give him 'an appreciation of what lay beneath his feet', she jeered. She then leaned forward and asked about one of my more unique insults I'd flung. I'd called him 'uglier than Snow White's soul'. It turns out she rather liked that one.

"As she squatted next to me, she listened while I explained all the many ways I hated Snow. Then she began to smile, this slow, dark, approving smile.

"She patted me on the shoulder and stood, ordered another guard to drop a full coin purse in my bowl - 'to buy medicine for my injury', she said - and left.

"Regina used that market a fair bit, about every three weeks. I didn't notice at first, but my begging bowl would always get a large donation, sometimes coins, sometimes food, at about the time she was in my vicinity. Never by her own hand though.

"It was over a year before she saw me again personally. She was in an odd mood and, in hindsight, I think she wanted someone who understood pain to talk to. I found out later her mother had just died. She ordered guards to keep everyone away so no one could see what she was doing and she sat in the dirt beside me.

"She just talked like I wasn't some poor lame beggar. Like we'd known each other for years. She seemed so sad and lonely. She spoke a tiny bit about her childhood, how being powerless was the worst thing that can happen to someone. She said it was good I still had fight in me. It was good the grudge I kept against Snow still burned, as revenge was a powerful motivator in your darkest hour. She also said I should learn and improve myself or the vultures would pick me apart.

"I told her I could hardly improve myself when I couldn't even read. She just stared at me for a long time and said 'Then learn. Don't accept anyone else telling you who you are and what your limits are. Don't be a sheep. Be the wolf'.

"Just before she left, she asked me for my real name, and I told her it was Loreena Greene. She said I should reclaim my name and never ever let the others take it from me.

"This coming from a woman dubbed the 'Evil Queen'?! I couldn't help but point that out. She growled at me as if she'd already thought of that. I didn't understand.

"Then I told her it was too late for me. I was Crips forever because sometimes names just stick.

"That got her so upset. She became enraged and stormed away, calling for her guards. She didn't leave anything in my bowl that day.

"I didn't see her for a long time afterwards, but I took her words to heart. I would pick up the old newspapers that blew around the market and study them. Try to make sense of the words on the page.

"After a while some of the names I could recognize. Things like 'apple' or 'plow', as they often had illustrations beside them in the advertisements. But the in-between words stymied me. An old woman saw what I was trying to do and helped me learn the other words.

"Rosie became my first friend. My only friend. But then she fell quite ill.

"By the time Regina decided to visit me again, almost eight months had passed and I was both literate - more literate than most of the town in fact - and very, very worried for my elderly tutor's health. So this time I asked Regina for help. I had heard she was a powerful witch and could do magic. Could she not save my old friend?

"She wanted to know why I didn't ask the favour for myself. Regina pointed at my legs and it was the first time she'd even made mention of my disability.

"I told her the truth - that I hadn't thought to ask because I'd long ago resigned myself to never fulfilling that dream. Snow had ripped that fantasy from me. Crushed it to dust. But Rosie had helped me learn to read, so couldn't she at least save her?

"Regina seemed very angry and I couldn't fathom why. She told me I would never make it in the world if I didn't put myself first. 'Selflessness is for the weak and for fools', she snapped. Being generous and kind and noble had gotten her nowhere, she added, and being powerful was 'all that mattered' in the end.

"She leaned over my sick friend, observing those rheumatic, ancient blue eyes staring up at us both, Rosie's breath coming in ragged gasps, and Regina told her coldly, 'Learn to save yourself. No one else ever will'.

"Her brown eyes flicked back to mine and there was something there that I couldn't decipher. She stood and stormed off furiously.

"I was shocked, angry and horrified. I bent over Rosie and said how sorry I was that the queen had let her down but she just smiled at me and patted my hand.

"'Dear child,' she croaked, 'Didn't you see the look on her face? She wanted to help me, but she just didn't have the first idea how. And she didn't want to appear weak so she made as if it was her choice. Don't blame her. She is angry and afraid. Whoever taught her magics, never showed her the light arts or the healing spells, I'll warrant. Her anger was at her own ignorance. At whoever withheld such things from her. I'm sorry to say but she's very embarrassed now. You'll likely not see her again.'

"Rosie was right, I never did see Regina as more than a passing blur when she rode through our village on occasion. I tried to forgive her for her callousness and not even trying to help, but I couldn't. Not when Rosie died two days later."

Loreena wiped a tear away. "I loved Rosie. She noticed me.

"Even as I say that now, it's remarkable that in this town full of so many people, of all walks of life, the only other person to ever notice me was your 'evil' queen.

"Regina may be many things, but I know she has empathy. She has a heart and she has a soul. They may have been twisted once, she may have lost her way and done awful things, but I can tell you, she definitely has those three - heart, empathy and soul - and had them, even in her worst, terrible depths.

"Regina Mills is not just some caricature of villainy any more than your royals are upstanding paragons of virtue and perfection. It's a ridiculous, childish notion that there are only good or evil people and nothing in between. Regina is not who you think she is. And she never was."

Loreena looked up at the silent room. "That's all I wanted to say."

She rolled out of the court room unchallenged, ignoring the stunned, shocked expressions.

* * *

The sharp knock at Loreena's door should not have surprised her again but it did.  _Was Snow ready for round two?_ , she wondered as she reached for the doorknob.

_Ah. Of course. The Swan._

The blonde woman leaned awkwardly against the door frame, looking uncomfortable. She was clutching some papers in a deathgrip.

"Save whatever sassy greeting you have," Swan began without preamble. "I'm sick of hearing all your shit these past few months. You're bitter and have a chip of your shoulder they can probably see from space."

Loreena scowled and began to close the door. A boot appeared, stopping her.  _Like mother, like daughter._

"But, even so, you're Regina's last hope."

Loreena dropped her hand from the door knob. "Go on."

"Here," Swan thrust the bunch of papers into Loreena's lap then took a step back. "I'm trusting you with this. Do not betray me. Or her. It's her letter to me - not just her confession, but context. Fucking context. Not that stupid list she left with Archie that reads like a shopping list of arch crimes. This list, right there, explains it. Everything.

"When Snow's on the stand tomorrow, take her through it all, step by step, make all of them see why Regina did it. Show them how it felt to be a young woman trapped by forces around her, out of her control, by parents, by expectation, by Rumpelstiltskin, all of it. Make them feel her fucking pain.

"And make Snow go there too, and face it for the first time in her goddamned life. Can you do that?"

Loreena looked at her - really looked at her. The good sheriff was barely holding it together. She looked at the dark rings under the sheriff's eyes, the torment.

"I can do that," Loreena said.

"Good. And this time do it because you want to help Regina, not to hurt Snow."

"I believe we've already established I can do both." She smirked.

Emma suddenly bent forward and slapped a hand on either side of her wheelchair, leaning heavily on the armrests. Her biceps bulged with tension. It brought their faces within inches of each other.

"Stop being such a fucking smart alec. Even at her worst, when she was out of her fucking mind on a vengeance kick, Regina put money in your bowl. She treated you like an equal. When no one else in this fucking population bothered with you, she saw you. She. Saw. You. And as a kid who's spent her fair time kicking around the streets, homeless and invisible herself, I know exactly what that feels like. So get your head out of your ass, look inside your soul and do right by her tomorrow. Got it?"

Loreena had an arsenal of fairly wicked comebacks lined up, but as she saw the deadly earnest on the sheriff's face and the pain radiating from her, she sighed.

_Swan wasn't entirely wrong. It was time to move past Snow. She'd had her payback. It was Regina she had to focus on._

She squinted at her.

"Fine," Loreena muttered and nodded curtly. "Good evening, Sheriff."

She watched the woman slope off angrily. She closed her front door thoughtfully with a soft snick.

_Well. Tomorrow should be very interesting indeed._

.


	71. ONLY TWELVE

Emma was packing a duffle bag when Snow arrived home after the trial and peeked into her bedroom to find the blonde angrily shoving in clothes.

"Going somewhere?"

"Where do you think?" A pair of white boy shorts and furry bed socks were rammed in with the finesse of a charging rhino. "Oh wait I don't know  _precisely_  where I'm going until you cough up the location you've been keeping from me." She faced Snow, hands rammed on hips. "So where  _is_  she?"

"You're going tonight? Right now?"

Emma looked at her with a pained, incredulous expression. "Come on, what do YOU think? I've been looking for her for months! And all this time… You…"

"Not all this time," Snow said gently. "I worked it out the night you did the cold case. She's at the spot you spent the night together, on the edge of Matt's property."

Emma froze and a surprised look crossed her face as she realised the importance of that. Her expression gave her away.

"Yes. As soon as you mentioned it I guessed she'd be there. I went to see."

"Yet you didn't tell me," Emma growled. "You knew it was killing me trying to find her and you withheld that. That's the shittiest thing ever." She stopped and her voice softened slightly. "How was she? Tell me that at least."

"Regina is Regina," Snow said and gave a wry smile. "A born survivor. And a lot calmer than anyone else would be in her shoes. She asked after you and Henry."

Emma nodded and shoved a towel down the throat of her bag. Her jaw clenched.

Snow's heart broke. "Emma, whether you want to admit it or not, you're my daughter. I love you. I have a long and complicated history with Regina, not the least of which includes her trying to kill me several times. I needed to protect you. So I needed to know for sure that what she's doing with you is…"

Emma's head snapped up. "Not a trick? Because who could  _possibly_  want me without it being some complicated mindfuckery to mess with you?" She glared at Snow. "Is that it?"

"Sincere," Snow finished. "But I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind that Regina was playing with you to get to me."

At Emma's outraged expression, Snow sighed. "It would be foolish of me not to consider all the options."

She settled herself beside Emma on the bed and gentled her voice. "I know her well." At Emma's sceptical snort she added, "Aspects of her at least. And yes I'm sure you know her better in other ways these days. Anyway I had to find out. But, to my relief, I believe she's sincere in her feelings. She showed so much concern for you and Henry."

Snow leaned back on her arms and said quietly, "Deep down, I really didn't think I expected much different after how she's been acting this past year. Still, I had to be sure, sweetie." She lifted an arm to Emma's and rested it soothingly on hers.

"The past year?" Emma paused her furious packing. She eyed Snow's hand as if debating whether to shake it off.

"Well she gave every sign that she was depressed without you. She went all the way to Boston to fetch you. And there were other things. A town hall meeting I'll never forget. The one I told you about, with tears and hugs."

Emma smirked and her anger seemed to ebb away. Snow continued with a grin. "And there was a school fundraiser that shocked us both," Snow added. "I have never seen a personal cheque with so many zeroes. Look, Emma, I still have my reservations, but I know she's definitely not the woman I knew in the other world. In some ways I've been thinking they have the wrong woman on trial."

Snow paused and glanced sheepishly at Emma. "That's a ridiculous thing to say, isn't it? I mean she's the same person. And yet…"

Emma shook her head and grimaced. "She's not the woman I knew either. I thought I was falling for an uptight mayor with control issues and a nasty ex. But I discover, 'No, sorry lady, your girlfriend's really the Evil Queen, didn'tchaknow?'."

Emma sat abruptly on the edge of her bed. "The Evil Fucking Queen!" she said and tears began to track slowly down her face. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I mean  _what the fuck? Who does that even happen to?_ " She looked at Snow disbelievingly. "It's nuts, right? But I can't switch it off. What I feel. And I've been trying and trying to and it's not sticking."

"Oh Emma," Snow sighed and rubbed her arm where her hand still lay. "I'm surprised you're even trying."

"Huh?"

"Love is the greatest power. If it can even change an evil queen, do you seriously think you could fight it?"

"Wait, what?" She stared at her mother. "She's the  _evil queen_ ," Emma whispered hoarsely. Her face changed to anger in a flash. "SHIT! Even saying it out loud, it's just crazy. The Evil Queen."

"Yes she was," Snow agreed. "She has a lot to answer for in her past, and she will. It would be so much simpler if she still was that, and everything was black and white. Nice and neat. But she's not anymore."

Emma looked at Snow for a beat. "I don't get it. It's like you're resigned to her and me being together, even knowing who she is, what she did to everyone, what she did to you. To your …  _our_  family."

Snow sighed and waved her hand. "Emma … I saw you two dance."

"I … huh?"

"At Archie and Matt's wedding. I saw you. I knew for sure then."

"It was just a dance."

"No, it wasn't. It was Regina putting her heart out there for everyone to see. No one still evil would have ever done that, laid herself bare like that. Opened herself up to public ridicule or worse. Old Regina would have mocked such an act of devotion as weakness. But this Regina just radiated love when she held you. She told the whole room without words what you meant to her. She did it completely unselfconsciously. She did it for  _you_ , Emma. So you would know she wasn't afraid or ashamed of how she felt about you."

"Oh."

"I saw your face, too."

Emma swallowed. "Yeah?"

"Emma – the woman in your arms that night, you loved her completely."

"But she's … she was…"

"I know. We all know. Do you think I want my daughter with someone with a past like that? Of course I don't."

Emma eyed her in confusion. "Then what are you saying?"

"When the curse broke and I lay in bed that first morning with Charming, my first thought was not for the town, or my lost baby girl or our old beloved homeland. I lay there and I realised who my best friend Emma really was and who she loved. I cried. I lay in David's arms and wept over you.

"Then, hours later, I realised what was most shocking was that the end of the curse wouldn't change what I understood the day I watched you and Regina dance. I know it's a cliché but love is the greatest power of all. It cannot be defeated by sheer force of will. I really don't know why you keep trying." She gave Emma a soft smile and cupped her cheek. "You always were so stubborn."

"But…"

"One thing we all learn when raised in a land of fairytales is that the heart wants what it wants. Obviously there are times when this doesn't please me."

Emma raised her eyebrow.

"Yes, this  _is_  one of those times. But the truth is I love you Emma. You are my child. And I loved Regina once. If I'm honest, deep down, there may be a small part of me that still does. And, bottom line, that's all there is to it. So I will fight to save her and I truly hope I succeed."

Emma bit her lip and then slumped. "For my sake?" she asked.

"And also for hers. I might not have considered it initially but I do now. She deserves another chance after trying so hard to become a better person. For coming so far and opening herself up the way she has. It doesn't excuse her past – nothing really does - but she should have someone fighting for her now."

"You know what's funny?" Emma asked suddenly. "Until today in court, everyone assumed you didn't want to win and were just going through the motions because she named you the defense counsel. And Loreena monstering us so well can't have changed anyone's minds. They all thought you were tanking on purpose. But all this time, you've been actually trying to win. Really trying."

Snow rolled her eyes. "I know," she groaned. "Regina really didn't do herself any favours picking me. I'm not a lawyer. I don't have Loreena's killer instinct or 10-steps-ahead tactical brain. And I'm dreading tomorrow. It could backfire so badly. I know Loreena's going to ask me about my father. He was a good and kind man who deserved better than what Regina did to him and I'm going to be honest about that. Regina did some terrible deeds, Emma, awful things, and all that is going to come out."

"Oh," Emma said glumly. "Yeah. Well that's great."

Snow exhaled. "I know. What I'm hoping is that we'll get into who Regina is  _now_. How she completely reformed. Otherwise it won't be pretty."

"I hope we talk about that," Emma said. "From what I saw when I came back, everyone liked the new evolved Regina - until the curse lifted of course. Well … maybe some still do like her, I guess."

Snow paused, intrigued. "Why do you say that?"

Emma shrugged. "It's basic maths isn't it? I just figure not every single person in this town hates being transported to a modern world. Shit, Loreena can't be the only one to think it's better here than there, right? So I assume there must be some others around who also don't hate her guts and want her dead."

Snow pursed her lips. "You'd think that wouldn't you? But where are they? Did you know a third of Storybrooke residents have now decided to stay and make use of the reparations she gave them? Another 40 per cent are waiting for the trial to end before deciding. The rest have already taken their beans and gone home. But a  _third_ , Emma."

Emma blinked at her. "Well yeah. They were good gifts – some families will get fresh starts they'd never otherwise get. Kids can go to college and have a chance at a great future. Of course some are gonna hang around and do that. Not everyone's going to thumb their nose at Regina just on principle. They'd be fools to."

"It's not just her gifts," Snow said slowly, frowning. "Even before the curse broke Regina was a changed woman, with all her projects to help Storybrooke and her improved attitude. Everyone was thawing towards her. The longer the trial goes on, and the more detail comes out about why she did what she did, I keep expecting someone to offer their support or testimony. But where are they? Because you're right – this is basic maths. There  _should_  be more people in Regina's corner than just you, me and Loreena."

Emma puzzled at that. "Well Ruby did say nice things about her privately to me but then she told me …" Her face lit up. "Ah! Huh. Well I know the answer to your question." She stood suddenly, and strode towards the door.

"Emma," Snow interrupted, "Aren't you forgetting something?" She pointed to the duffle bag.

"One day more," Emma said with a determined grin, "That's all I have to wait to see her. But right now I think I can fix some things before it's too late."

"What? What can you possibly do now that would make the slightest bit of difference?"

Emma shot her a lopsided grin as she dug around for her car keys. "Plenty. But before that I have to give Loreena a blast. Damn woman needs to focus on Regina for once. It's making me crazy. And then I have a mission that will keep her occupied tonight. She won't thank me." She glanced around distractedly, looking for something.

"What will you do to her?"

Emma smirked. "Not what, who." She paused and grabbed her wallet. "Shit, almost forgot – I need beer money." She waggled the tan leather accessory and pocketed it enthusiastically.

"You're going drinking?"

"In a manner of speaking. Although it's more a recruitment drive."

* * *

This time when a knock sounded on the door, Loreena decided she should not bother feeling surprised. She swung it open, a barb lined up should Swan have returned for round two, and then her eyes widened.

"Yes?'' she asked in confusion and her gaze wandered past the woman knocking.

"May we have a word?"

"You've already had five. And who's 'we'? Exactly?"

She pushed the door slightly wider and resisted the urge to gape as she saw a crowd of about a hundred residents befouling her garden. Well - standing on her lawn at least.  _Same difference._

"My name is Johanna," a stout woman with kind eyes began. She was in her fifties, wearing a dreary peasant-style dropped-waist dress that Loreena assumed she'd probably favoured in the old world and had never bothered altering. The woman hesitated under the secretary's withering gaze and then launched in.

"I was Snow White's nanny when she was growing up. I saw many things, things that could be helpful to know if you wanted to get to the truth about Regina's early days as queen when you question Snow on the stand tomorrow."

Loreena considered that and then flicked her eyes questioningly back at the mob of assembled garden-befoulers.

"We, all of us here, have pieces of the puzzle, I guess you might say. Gustav, over there, was one of her royal guards after Snow was exiled," she said and pointed to a tall man with sharp black eyes and a moustache. Everything about him screamed intimidation – but his eyes seemed oddly haunted.

"Pietr tended the horses at Regina's winter palace..." Johanna pointed to a boy in his early twenties with a mop of brown hair obscuring most of his anxious expression.

"Wait," Loreena interrupted crossly. "Why are you all coming forward now? The last witness is tomorrow.  _As you well know._  All of you had your chance to testify long before now. What is this?"

Johanna shifted nervously on the top step. "None of us wished to testify for various reasons. But it would be wrong to assume no one in this town supports Regina, or isn't grateful for her gifts. But it's not the sort of thing anyone feels comfortable saying in public – it's widely considered unpopular opinion. Many of us had no wish to be ostracised for sticking our necks out for her. So we felt it was better to say nothing.

"As for the rest of the people here – people like me - we didn't want to go against our Princess Snow. Loyalty prevented us from telling what we knew in case that helped Regina. Up until court today none of us realised Snow actually wanted to win her case. We assumed she was doing it because she felt obligated to. Their blood feud isn't exactly a secret."

"So because of that you're here offering testimony now..." Loreena peered at her.

"No, we will still not testify. We are however willing to provide sworn statements to be admitted into evidence or background information for your questions to her. Since you are questioning her tomorrow, time is short. So we thought it best if we came here tonight."

Loreena considered that, then shifted her attention to the crowd beyond.

"So you all wish to do this to help Regina or out of loyalty to Snow because she wishes Regina to be helped?"

Heads all nodded except one. Loreena's eyes narrowed as she stared at the dissenter. "So why are  _you_  here then?"

The man, wearing an expensive, tailored suit and a surly expression, hesitated. "My daughter has persuaded me it's the right thing to do,'' he said darkly. "I have made choices that probably ... contributed to how she turned out the way she did."

"Contributed?" Loreena asked, very curious now as she watched the faintest hint of shame flit across his face.

"I realm jumped with her, Whale and Gold on her quest to reanimate her dead fiance. Except it was all an elaborate con," he muttered. "Like Whale said in his testimony. That, ah, may have unhinged her a bit. Well, a lot." He glanced at her and twisted his lips. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. But the last mistake I made would have robbed my little girl of who she was. Her identity. And Regina stopped me. The night the curse broke, she stopped me. I still don't want to help her – that woman stole thirty years of my life with my daughter - but my girl is more forgiving. And I'd do anything for my girl."

He fell silent.

"I see," Loreena nodded and announced with authority, "Fine, I'll talk to you first then." She beckoned him forward.

"Wait!" A bullish voice said from the rear. "You're just gonna leave us all out here standing, waiting for our turns? How big is this house anyway? Emma never said it was a mansion..."

"Swan? What's she got to do with this?"

"How did you think we found you? We were at the Rabbit Hole and Swan came in to have a drink with us and she suggested maybe it was time those of us who ..."

"Look, never mind," Loreena sighed, sensing this would be a long story. "I suddenly realised I don't care." The man paused in surprise, mid-flow.

She squinted at him.  _Hell, wasn't this one of the dwarves?_  She could never tell them apart.  _Sleepy was it? Fatty? Who knew._

He held up a bulging bag. "We planned ahead cos it's gonna be a long night. I brought steaks for the grill - I mean, hell, everyone should relax, kick back if we're gonna get this heavy crap off our chests, right?"

"I brought beer," called out another voice.

"Pizza here," came a younger woman.

"And a nice shiraz or three."

"Cheese Doodles."

Before Loreena could approve anything, or disapprove more likely, the crowd surged forward halting only when directly in front of her.

"How 'bout it, luv?" another short-statured miner ( _Sneezy? Happy?_ ) asked, looking around. "Which way to the griller?" He smiled cheerfully.

_Dear god._ She closed her eyes for a moment. Everyone froze and waited to see what she'd do.

_This was insane. She was Loreena Greene. She did not entertain. Did not have out-of-hours conversations. Did not ..._

The crowd suddenly surged past her, heading for the patio area.

And that's when she realised her own finger was pointing helpfully to it.  _Oh hell._

* * *

By the time the unofficial party-cum-sworn-affidavit-taking session had wound down, Loreena barely recognised her home. Her lounge, dining and patio areas had been ringing with chatter, camaraderie and actual laughter thanks to her garden-mangling, pool-dipping, steak-grilling uninvited guests.

The conversation and alcohol flowed, and with it the inhibitions came down. Loreena had watched in astonishment as a pair of dwarves confessed undying love for each other (platonic, she presumed, but then again, maybe not), while a food packer from the local grocery store embarked on a bawdy limerick she was sure would not end well for the lady from Nantucket.

There had been shockingly serious moments, and when the testimony began of the queen's former personal guard, Gustav, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Loreena's own breath had caught in her throat and she wondered at the burden people all across the realms had been secretly carrying for years.

When Pietr had taken over from Gustav's horrific tale you could have heard a pin drop.

By unspoken agreement, no one let the sad stories linger too long, and they drank, ate and partied around her while she systematically made her way from person to person, extracting testimonies, checking facts and dates, typing them up quickly, printing them out and returning for each of their signatures.

She had no doubt, gazing over the post-party debris at the end of the night to settle on a now sizeable stack of documents, that she had just gathered the most complete history of the reign of Regina Mills anyone had ever seen. And she knew without asking that Snow White didn't know a tenth of it. Probably few in Storybrooke had the faintest idea of how it all fitted together. For the first time in her entire life she actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman who would be taking the stand tomorrow.

_And wasn't that a first_...

She was obsessively neatening her kitchen after the last of her guests had left, when a voice spoke near her ear.

"Must feel so strange, dear."

She spun her wheelchair around to find a stoutly older woman with kindly eyes, in a neat grey dress, with well-used, sturdy shoes. She sucked in a breath. For a moment, just a moment, she could have sworn she was looking at her elderly tutor, Rosie.

She assessed her quickly. In her 70s most likely. Elegant but not educated. Salt of the earth type. She knew she had not taken this woman's testimony. She also didn't recall seeing her at any time earlier in the evening.

"They say we looked alike you know," the woman said, taking in her expression. "My sister and I."

Loreena stared at her in surprise.

"I don't really see it though," the woman continued. "Well maybe in the eyes."

"You're Rosie's sister?"

"Why yes. I'm Josephine." The woman smiled gently and offered her hand. Loreena immediately took it and felt an aching familiarity. She snatched her hand away as if it were burnt.

"She never mentioned a sister," Loreena said finally, suspiciousness clouding her tone.

Sorrow flitted across the visitor's face.

"She didn't talk to me at all in the old world," Josephine began. "Oh it's so silly. We had a disagreement about some nonsense years ago and we were young and foolish and always assumed there was plenty of time to patch things up. We let our lives take over and never got around to it. She got ill and I found out far too late."

Loreena swallowed back her bitter tears at the reminder.

"I was glad to hear you had been with her, though, in the end," Josephine was saying. "And I came here to do right. When I heard about this get-together, it seemed the best time to say hello. I might not have ever been around for Rosie but I can be around for the daughter she wished she'd had. Especially now my own family has all passed on." She gave a warm smile. "I promise I'm an excellent friend and listener."

Loreena stared at her indignantly, unable to comprehend the offer. "Why would you think I'd need either one? I helped keep this town running for thirty years. I'm not helpless, and I don't need anyone!"

Josephine gave an amused snort of laughter. "My dear, even the most self-sufficient among us need help or friends some time. For instance, right about now I can see you need someone to dry up those dishes. Where do you keep the dish towel?"

Loreena glared at her for a moment, still unsure what was happening, because people certainly don't just turn up unannounced and do nice things for her. Not once in her life had that ever happened. She pointed wordlessly to a cloth. Josephine leapt into action and soon was bustling about drying the dishes.

Some time had passed before she snapped out of her daze to find Josephine gently extracting a sponge from Loreena's frozen hands and declaring the dishes were done. The older woman mysteriously produced a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Now then, let's go put our feet up for a bit and learn something about each other. Oh and you must tell me all about Rosie, too."

Loreena stared.

At her silence, Josephine added: "I hear you have a wonderful pool area?"

_This was not happening. This making friends and having drinks and getting to know new people business._ Then again, before tonight she hadn't entertained 122 relative strangers in her home for three hours, either.

Before she could stop herself, she heard herself saying: "It turns out I do." And then she actually smiled.

 

* * *

Snow White sat in the stand and eyed the court room passively. The prosecutor had an inordinate amount of paperwork on her desk. To Loreena's right Emma was fiddling with a video camera that Archie had allowed her to set up to show the proceedings to Regina later. Everyone agreed she'd definitely want to see Snow's day in court. Emma finally glanced up to the mayor and gave a thumb's up sign. Archie raised a pointed eyebrow at Loreena who began.

She looked at Snow. "Tell us about the first day you met Regina."

"I was 12, riding in the countryside and my horse bolted. Regina saw it happen and raced up to save me on hers."

"And what was your first impression of her?"

"I thought she was the most wonderful woman. She smiled and her whole face lit up. She was so happy."

"Then what happened?" Loreena asked.

"I told my father what she'd done. He decided to propose to her."

"Just like that? A new queen, sight unseen? No background checks? Nothing?"

Snow shifted in her seat. "I guess not."

"You were happy with his choice?"

"I thought it was an amazing idea. And it made me love my father even more. I knew he was doing it for me, to give me a new mother."

"How noble of him."

Snow stared at her, evidently not liking the tone. "Actually it was."

"How would you categorize your father's relationship with Regina. Were they happy together?"

"Regina seemed uncertain at first. I remember a wedding dress fitting where she seemed so troubled. But after that, she seemed to throw herself into the role. The royal wedding, well, I'm sure many people remember – it was so grand and beautiful – every little girl's dream."

Her eyes fell to Emma who was pulling a face. "Well most little girls' dreams," she corrected, her lips quirking.

"So they were happy?"

"I think my father tried his best with her. But as time went on she often stayed in her room for days on end. And she can be moody, as we all know." Snow gave an uncomfortable laugh.

"Do you think your father loved Regina?"

"I… maybe. He was a warm, gentle and kind man so he would have tried to be loving."

"What was your father doing in that part of the land, the day you first met Regina?"

"Travelling – for business."

"I have sworn statements from nine of your former palace staff that the king was actually in that area, travelling around, looking for a new wife. The king was considered to be 'lonely', they said. There were spinsters and daughters up and down the coast hoping for a chance with your father on this particular 'business' trip."

"No… he was," Snow began uncertainly. "It was… There was business."

"He was  _lonely_ ," Loreena repeated. "Your own palace staff say he wasn't just selflessly out hunting for mother substitutes. He wanted a wife with all that entailed."

Snow stared. "Fine," she ground out. "So what?"

Loreena ignored the question. "His choice of wife was immediately simplified when you loved the idea of Regina as your new mommy, wasn't it?"

"I… suppose."

"Because you thought she was pretty. And her smile lit up her face," Loreena drawled as she made air quote marks with her fingers.

Snow flushed. "Yes. But for heaven's sake, I was only 12."

"Twelve is old enough to understand what it means when someone tells you they're in love with someone else. Regina had told you that?"

"Yes. But I offered to tell my father and get him to call it off."

"And she said?"

"No."

"Why do you suppose that was?"

Snow shook her head. "I have no idea why. But I was pleased."

"Do you understand that regular people don't just say no to royalty? They fear retribution for themselves or their families from someone with immense power if they defy their wishes?"

"Daddy would NEVER…"

"And how would Regina know that? She'd known your father for all of, what, 12 seconds at this point? From the moment of their first meeting to his marriage proposal?"

"She could have said no," Snow repeated.

"I see. Tell me: How many people have you witnessed saying no to your father in your lifetime – and you can include Regina in that."

There was a long, long silence as Snow thought hard. "None." The words came out barely a whisper.

"So one can conclude that people just do whatever royals request, including accept unwanted marriage proposals? Or in Regina's case, let her mother accept them on her behalf."

Snow's face fell. "I… it's possible. But my father was kind and good. Everyone said so," she began. "You make it sound like she was being shackled to a monster. That's ridiculous and a lie.  _She_  was the one who had him killed. She didn't even regret it.  _She killed my father._  Regina was the monster not him!"

Emma winced at the particularly unhelpful outburst and the courtroom broke out into murmurs of sympathy for their favorite royal. Snow's face was flushed and she was blinking back outraged tears. Her hands shakily reached for a glass of water which she sipped.

Loreena waited for the noise to settle down and continued on patiently as though Snow hadn't just torpedoed her own case. "I have a sworn statement from Rita Miller. Do you know who that is?"

"The palace nurse." Snow wiped her face firmly and seemed to regroup.

"In it she states that at least once a fortnight she attended your step mother's bedside after the king had shared her bed and attended to any injuries found, applying salves to reduce bruising, scratches and swelling."

There was a stunned silence.

Snow's mouth opened and shut. Her head shook twice. "No," she whispered hoarsely.

"You challenge the nurse's report?"

"I was TWELVE," Snow croaked. "How could … how … could I know any of this?"

"You weren't always 12 were you? And we've already established you were old enough to hand-pick the new mommy you wanted, made to order complete with big smiles and pretty looks."

Snow shook her head, askance.

"Well she wasn't really a true 'mommy' though, was she?" Loreena continued, "because she was treated like the hired help. Actually worse when you think about it, because she was unpaid, and regularly abused. So she was actually a woman in servitude."

"Regina was not my father's slave! H-he was good! This is outrageous."

"Well  _you_  would say that, wouldn't you? But what would Regina say?"

Snow shook her head, lips trembling.

"She had freedom – she was no slave," Snow repeated. "If she wanted to she could have left him. She chose to stay."

"She could have just deserted your father, the king? Without any consequences? Just run off into the night and humiliated him like that?" Loreena gave a slow, mocking smile. " _Really?_ "

"I… yes. If she really wanted to, she could have."

There was a snickering around the courtroom and Snow flushed angrily. Archie slammed his gavel down and ordered everyone to quiet down. For the first time Snow appeared lost. She reached for her glass of water again.

Loreena rifled through her papers and drew another out. "I have a sworn statement from the hat maker, Jefferson, a former business associate of Regina's during and after her marriage to Leopold. He states that Cora had placed spells around the palace preventing her from running beyond the immediate palace lands when not in the presence of her husband. Even after Cora disappeared, the spell remained. Did you know that?"

"How can that be true?" Snow retorted, some of her old fire returning. "She left the realm all the time."

"After your father's death. Yes. The spell broke the day he died."

"Well how was I supposed to know?"

"Did you ever ask?"

"What? Why didn't I ask my stepmother whether she was trapped in the palace by a curse?" Snow said and laughed coldly.

"I meant, did you ever ask your new mommy why she stayed in the marriage if she was miserable?"

"She didn't look miserable."

"You told us earlier she was moody and she would stay in her room for days. These are signs of unhappiness, yes?"

"Well that was later in the marriage."

"I have sworn statements from nine former palace staff," Loreena began as she waved a sheaf of papers, "stating the queen was regularly locked in her bedroom by her husband. He also read her journal and had a man assigned to follow her and report back to him on  her movements. Rather than being moody and hiding in her room as you saw it, she was actually being punished by your father. So how do you feel now about the aptness of a 'slave' description?"

You could have heard a pin drop. Emma bit her lip and looked away. It was hard to hear, worse to see her mother go through it and Loreena still seemed to be enjoying putting Snow on the rack far too much. The prosecutor was practically vibrating each time the royal squirmed. That was fucked up.

Still – it was also stuff that had to be said. Emma hadn't known half of what was coming but she'd guessed. Controlling exes – that was something she knew a shitload about in her bounty-hunting job - jealousy led to an awful lot of marriage breakups and nasty, nasty shit that parties loved to perpetrate on each other.

She only ever had to look into Regina's eyes to know something dark had shifted when she'd been forced to stay with Leopold. Something fucked up and desperate and frightening that broke her in half. The worst part, she mused as she glanced around the court at the shocked expressions, no one would have believed her at the time. The man was the adored good king. Who would believe his new commoner consort - a faded clone of the beloved can-do-no-wrong first wife - that he was anything less than perfection?

She'd seen that before, too. Community leaders who were "fine, upstanding good ole boys" whose wives had horrific secrets no one would believe. So the women didn't bother telling. They just put on a heavier layer of make-up and smiled their sad hollow smiles.

Emma's eyes skated back to Snow and watched her chest rising and falling in agitation. Her mother was desperately defending Emma's asshole grandfather. Or at least her image of him. That was hard. Losing an adoring daughter's image of her daddy.  _Sucks._ But what Regina went through? That was a thousand-fold harder. And the worst part of all, as Emma looked in her mother's eyes,  _Snow knew it_. She could see the doubt growing in huge brown eyes and the white-knuckled grip on the glass she held.

Snow knew it. But even so she wasn't going to lose her perfect father to Loreena's sharp tongue just yet. She was not going down without a fight. Emma watched as Snow slapped a hand angrily on the witness stand.

"For God's sake – a slave wife now? Don't be absurd. These were different times, different lands, different rules. We all know it. There must have been dozens of fixed royal marriages. My own husband, David, was lined up for one with Abigail! Would their wedding night have been some mutual marital rape? Come on! You can't apply this world's rules to that world. And you make it sound like Regina had no choice but to do the things she did. As though someone  _forced_  her to kill my father. No. We all have choices. She made hers."

"We all have choices?" Loreena repeated in a dangerous, almost sensuous tone. "So easy for you to say that, with all the privilege and power of your position. Now put yourself in Regina's shoes – what  _should_  she have done? Being involuntarily forced to submit her body every fortnight to a man old enough to be her grandfather, spied on, locked in her room, no hope, no escape, no future. You say she had all these choices, so tell us all Snow, what  _should_  she have done?"

Snow snapped at her: "Not murder her husband at least!"

Loreena chuckled at that – one of the condescending chuckles that set Emma's teeth on edge. "Ah so if it was you, you'd wait around, being brutalised every other week, hoping that  _this_  would be the year that your all-powerful husband dies of old age? Despite his having access to the realm's top doctors and best fairies with healing spells.

"The average monarch in fairytale lands lives to 120 years thanks to medical intervention. So what if this loveless forced marriage you were in lasted another four, five, six decades? And the abuse went on and on. Relentlessly. Week in, week out. Would it take its toll on you do you think? Would you start to entertain more extreme options? Options you'd once never dream of considering in your virtuous heart if not for your desperation?"

"Oh God."

Emma watched Snow's face crumple. Yes, she definitely knew it now. Emma looked at her table unseeingly, unable to watch her mother's loss of composure. It's what she'd requested Loreena do – this, all this, to make her see - and now, now she just wanted it over.

She could feel the ripples of emotion around her in the courtroom and knew they were seeing it too. For the first time, she imagined, people were understanding what it was like to walk a mile in Regina Mills' shoes. She tilted her head to look at the crowd behind her. She could feel the seeds of sympathy but more than that, there was anger. At the system that did this to a young woman? At Leopold? She wasn't entirely sure.

She realised Loreena was talking again and turned back.

"We all read Regina's so-called Appendix A. She says his is the only death she doesn't regret. Do you see why now?"

Snow almost groaned and put her head in her hands. "Yes," she ground out. "But he … he was my daddy," she almost pleaded as she looked wildly around the room. "And your king! He didn't deserve to die. You must see that!"

And this time her voice wobbled with enough uncertainty that it broke Emma's heart.

Loreena had just killed her father a second time.

"Shall we move on to Daniel's death?" Loreena was almost drawling now. "Her beloved fiancé that Regina was so close to running off with until… wait, what happened next? And  _how_  did it happen? I forget." Loreena gave an overly innocent look that was so smug it made Emma want to slap her.

Snow shot the prosecutor a furious glare.

_Oh God. It was going to be a long day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Apologies to all lawyers enduring this and the next chapter. Yes, I know how procedurally absurd this trial is. But I argue Archie only cares about the truth and he got his judge credentials from the same cereal box he got his psychiatry degree.


	72. DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING

The testimony went on for an hour more, detailing how Regina was tricked by Rumpelstiltskin and his cronies. Piece by piece, moment by moment, Loreena showed how any hope Regina had, had been crushed thanks to the manipulations of the trio for their own ends. It was utterly draining to listen to and more than once Snow had snapped.

"Did you miss the part where I said I was 12!" she said, outraged. "I'm not a mind reader and what was happening to Regina at this point is not my fault. You are clouding everything. But in the end we got the curse because Regina made evil choices!"

Emma sighed again. First 'monster', now 'evil'. Snow wasn't wrong when she admitted she was a shitty defense counsel. But her mother had always said from day one that she wanted the truth to be aired in this court. She really meant it. And Emma was aware enough to know that Snow was probably doing more good by being an effective, credible witness and honestly airing everything as she remembered it, than lying about all the ways Regina had fucked up two worlds.

Besides, it's not like Snow could actually lie if she wanted to. None of this was a secret. Regina herself had issued her own detailed confession. So now everyone in the room knew what was coming up, and item 13 on Appendix A would probably sink all the brilliant work Loreena had done so far in showing Regina as a grief-stricken, abused, manipulated woman with her back to the wall.

Because how on earth do you explain away that crime? A momentary lapse of judgment? For God's sake. Emma sighed. As exceptionally skilled as Loreena was at muddying the waters, the sheriff's optimism was slowly draining as they inched closer to item No 13: The Massacre.

By the time they were there, Emma had almost buried her head in her arms on the table, as if trying to block out the horrors she knew had to be coming. Snow had already told her what she'd seen that day. The mangled bodies of men, women and children. Children! Snow wouldn't leave that out, she knew. And the crowd's mood would turn on Regina in an instant once Snow detailed that particular recollection.

Emma felt her heart thumping. It was so easy for Snow to tell her she couldn't fight love, but come on, this was probably the circumstance you'd make the exception for. Because how the hell can you defend ordering a massacre?

Emma felt sick. _Nope. Not. Possible._  She lifted her eyes to the prosecutor.

"Ah yes, the infamous Evil Queen's massacre," Loreena was saying and flicked through her stack of papers. She pulled one out. "I suppose you mean the one at the village whose outskirts you were hiding out at. The one where Regina threatened to punish those hiding you with death if you didn't surrender. That massacre?"

"Yes."

"I have here a copy of  _Rules of the Realm_  I acquired from Mr Gold's possessions. As you would know it's the constitutional handbook the royals drew up several hundred years ago in the bid to have consistency of laws across multiple realms." She passed it over to Snow. "Could you read out what it says on page 57, under Treasonous Acts, Parts 1A-1B?"

" _A monarch shall have the right to condemn any citizen as a traitor for failing to obey the express orders of said monarch, as long as said condemnation has been stated in public no less than two times. Notices to this effect also can be widely posted, and these count as one warning. Traitors are guilty of a crime punishable by death._ "

Snow put down the book.

"Were there any warnings about you being declared a traitor, and its consequences?"

"Yes."

"In public?"

"Yes."

"How many warnings?"

"Four."

"Who gave them?"

"Regina addressed the villagers three times. A royal guard one time."

"Were any posters distributed declaring you a traitor?"

"Yes."

"Were they widespread?"

"Yes."

"So Regina complied with the law then. It was within her legal rights as queen to do what she did to the villagers who didn't comply with her order?"

"It was immoral! Regardless of whether it was legal – it was disgusting."

"It was the law," Loreena repeated. "One you didn't change I might add. But even so, didn't you say earlier these were different times, different rules? You were a royal, you agreed to those rules the day you claimed your royal title. Or do you believe the rules don't apply to you?"

"I do not believe that law ever intended that poor villagers, including innocent children, should be slayed on a royal whim. What happened was immoral."

"I'm sure everyone would agree," Loreena said pleasantly, surprising Snow who glanced at her suspiciously.

The prosecutor lifted a piece of paper. "I have a sworn statement from a member of Regina's royal guard who has asked his name be suppressed. He goes by the initial 'G'. He participated in this massacre."

She looked at Archie for approval to proceed. "I'll allow it – this is a truth hearing. That takes precedent over everything else," he said.

"Mr G says Regina issued the royal guards with an order after the fourth warning. He says she told them 'I want you to find every last traitor harboring Snow White and deal with them. Permanently.' Mr G states they were unsure exactly what the order specifically meant by 'traitor'. There was fierce discussion among the men and, because no one questioned the queen, some of the guards decided the safest option would be to eradicate the entire village. Just in case Regina thought children and babies were traitors, too. Given her reputation, several were of the firm – and loud - view she definitely meant that.

"Mr G says he protested that their queen just wanted those adults actively involved in shielding Snow executed. He was then mocked, called a coward and forced by the other guards to take part in the resulting mass slaughter. He says, and I quote, 'Gods have mercy on my soul for what I did that that awful day. I did it, I went along with it and it was revolting. It was a sickness that swept the men. There was so much blood. The air smelled of death. I heard the cries of those still dying. The other guards even laughed about it later. I've had nightmares ever since. The curse was a reprieve from them but now the nightmares are back. I still see the little ones' faces looking at me in fear and betrayal'."

Loreena paused and sucked in a deep breath before continuing. "When Regina returned after being away for two weeks, although no one knew where - she summoned him and asked what had happened in that village. The oddest thing was she seemed to already know, Mr G believes. He said: 'I stood there and wept like a broken little infant when I told her every last horror I and my compatriots committed'."

Loreena glanced up. "Would you like to know what your ferocious evil queen did then?"

The crowd leaned forward as one, silent, eyes wide.

"Mr G says: 'She dismissed me and told me to get myself cleaned up and go home for a few days. That I was not to concern myself with it ever again nor speak of it to anyone. When I returned, the rest of the royal guards were gone. I never found out where but we had new guards'."

Loreena immediately reached for a second sheet of paper.

"I have a sworn statement from Pietr Scanlon, also known as Little Pete, who ran Regina's stables. He tells me that same night she spoke to Mr G, she flew out of the castle in a fury to visit him. She was ranting and calling her men 'barbarians'. She kept muttering 'Even the children, they killed the children too'.

"Pietr notes that she had been different since she'd met a brother and sister out in the woods about a year prior. Ever since she'd sometimes asked after his own young siblings, who she often saw in his company around the royal estate. So when she was saying 'Even the children' Pietr believes she was enraged that young innocents she felt protective of had been killed.

"That night he was assigned the job of transporting on horseback 11 bodies to the village where the massacre occurred. He recognized their dead faces as being all of her royal guards, bar one. He was ordered to bury them beside the babies they'd killed. So 'even their souls would know the shame of it', she'd told him furiously. And then she threatened him to never breathe a word of what he'd done that night. He says she seemed afraid her fearsome reputation would suffer if it was known what she'd ordered."

The courtroom was so quiet, Loreena could swear they could hear her swallow as she took a sip of water. She glanced at Snow who looked stricken. Her expression matched the room's.

"So, do you still feel Regina was to blame for the 'immoral' child-killing aspects of that massacre that you singled out?"

Snow stared at her. "The fact she had her men kill the others, the adults was also bad," Snow said quietly, clearly shaken by the story. "I witnessed the aftermath and it was terrible. Despite the … miscommunication, there is no excuse for mass killing - everyone knows that."

"Even though it was her right to do so, at that time, in those lands, under those laws?"

Snow shook her head sadly. "Killing is still immoral. That transcends times and realms and rules. Everyone decent knows that. It's barbarian behaviour."

"Mayor, can I beg the court's indulgence with an experiment to test Snow's claims?"

"What sort of experiment?"

"Just a simple poll of the assembled crowd."

"Go ahead."

She faced the courtroom. "Would everyone please stand." She glanced at the jury and the mayor. "You too. And Snow."

There was a grumbling and a scraping of chairs.

"If you have  _never_  killed anyone nor specifically planned to kill anyone please sit down."

A number of teenagers and a few elderly people sat down. The vast majority of the room was standing. Including Snow White who looked somewhat faint. As shocking as that was, that startling fact was eclipsed when someone pointed out that Grigor the Impaler had just promptly sat down.

A low rumble went around the room.

Loreena eyed the enormous man fidgeting under the crowd's attention. "We're getting to Matt in a minute."

"Of those remaining, if you were ordered or expected to kill in a wartime situation by a superior, please sit."

Three quarters sat. The royals stayed standing, including Snow, and so did Eugenia Lucas. To everyone's astonishment, Archie was still on his feet. He was staring at the bench in front of him, shame filling his face.

Loreena peered at him and blinked.

"Of those standing, if you were in a situation of kill or be killed, in self-defence in a fight not of your choosing, please sit."

A dozen more sat.

Loreena stared at Archie and Eugenia in confusion. "If you were in non-human form at the time and had no sentient say over your actions, please sit."

This time Granny sat.

Archie looked at his hands and was twisting his fingers. He made no eye contact with anyone. Loreena's mouth was hanging open in surprise.

"If you didn't intend to kill, but it happened anyway as a result of your actions, or if you killed to alleviate the suffering of someone else, please sit."

Archie, with relief to himself and the entire room, finally sat. He murmured something about his parents as he did so. It was too faint to fully make out.

Loreena eyed the room and waited a beat. About 20 people remained standing, including all the royals except for Cinderella. That the town's monarchy were so vastly over-represented in the murderous group was chilling. They looked especially enraged to be placed in this position, too. Frederick appeared ready to throttle the prosecutor.

"So," Loreena said with a malicious smile, "We are left with our natural born killers."

She turned back to Snow and asked her sweetly. "Now will you argue different time, different realm, right? Regina's so uniquely, terribly immoral, and you're all just … what?  _Misunderstood_?"

She didn't wait for an answer and turned back to the crowd. "Everyone please sit." She turn swivelled back to Snow. "As for you, were you a killer at heart or in deed, dear?"

"I was being hunted, I was in a dark place…" Snow began. "I'm not normally… I mean… I didn't go through with it. I was stopped, David stopped me."

Loreena raised her hand. "Everyone here will have a different story about why they were about to kill or why they killed. Or, in some people's cases, why they felt it was their right to order whole armies to do so in their names. In Regina's case her failing appears to now be that she did not give clear orders to her guards. Isn't that right?"

"It was STILL a massacre. Sixty-seven people died."

"Sixty-seven people died," Loreena agreed and tsked. "Horrible. But shall we discuss the Fire Hills massacre on Prince Frederick's watch? 134 dead."

The royal named shot to his feet in indignation: "They were outlaws and bandits! Stealing royal steer!"

"Yes, all perfectly legal, too, those deaths. Even the civilians caught in the crossfire. Well.  _It happens_ ," Loreena said soothingly. "So what about the White Crags bloodbath? At King George's request? 1012 dead. Now that WAS a full-blown massacre. Men, women, children, babies, little puppies," She mocked. "But George isn't here on charges is he? Only Regina."

The crowd shifted and began to mutter in agreement.

"I'm not defending that massacre," Snow said and her eyes darted to the wider room. "That was horrific. And I thought, uh, well didn't Grigor do that one?" She slid her eyes over to Matt. "I mean that's what everyone said. I've seen etchings, too, depicting the aftermath. Grigor was blamed."

"Ah yes," Loreena said and seized a document. "I have a sworn statement from Matthew Grigorieva, also known as Grigor the Impaler, that his role in all battles was to ride heroically in, look fierce, shout war cries and instil terror. George and Rumpelstiltskin instead carried out any and all violent acts involved under the fog of war to add to the fiction."

The room erupted. Emma supposed the dethroning of the enchanted world's fiercest soldier – and most frightening mass killer – had clearly come as a mighty shock.

"Grigor was employed for propaganda purposes only," Loreena repeated, lifting her voice above the rising babble. "But most shocking of all, he revealed to me last night that this did not occur in a designated war zone. That massacre was purely a PR stunt to cause the surrounding villagers to capitulate. And they did."

There were now enraged cries around the court room. Loreena leaned back in her chair with a smirk. She waited for a lull before continuing.

"The royals have been quite busy slaughtering their own for some time it seems. Every single royal realm, except yours, Snow, has witnessed at least three massacres. Regina's realm has just one and even that, as we have seen, wasn't exactly what she'd intended."

"Order!" Archie cried out as the people were still chattering furiously.

Snow shook her head. "This is insane! Now we're comparing massacres!" she said, her voice raised, too.

"It's not insane, it's what was lawful back there. It's within the rights of every royal, including you and Regina, to kill anyone they so desire as long as they do it in the legally proscribed way. And, oh my, how they've taken advantage."

Loreena looked directly at the other royals, a gleam in her eye. "Would you like me to catalogue all your perfectly legal, but morally dubious lethal failings against your own people, too? I have eight more massacres to go, just for starters."

The royals suddenly seemed to have gone a chalky shade at her suggestion.

"Shall I start with Prince Frederick's kingdom? Or perhaps Abigail, your father's realm? My, he was busy. Such liberties. He sometimes just turned around and gave his enemies the golden touch on a whim."

"This is out of order," Archie interrupted. "You're supposed to be questioning Snow about Regina's alleged crimes."

"Why stop at one royal's indiscretions is all I'm saying," Loreena said offering a silky look that was both alarming and dangerous. "Why should Regina be so special?"

"Mayor Hopper…" A throat cleared and all eyes turned to the jury. Frederick was on his feet.

"The members of the jury urgently request an adjournment and a private meeting with you," he said, and all of them nodded fervently except Eugenia who looked like a bad smell was percolating under her nostrils. "We have a matter to discuss that cannot wait."

Archie didn't look surprised in the least. "You don't say," he muttered. "Fine. We're adjourned for 20 minutes."

Loreena sat back and flicked a glance at Emma who was now stabbing the pause button on the video recording.

"What was that all about?" the blonde muttered to her. "You got the royals' knickers in a bunch," she said finally looking up. "Congratulations. But I sure as hell hope there's a point to all this."

"Certainly," Loreena cackled and rolled away from the table, glancing around the room at the angry mutterings of the public. "I'm playing big-picture politics. Sit back and wait. Soon the real fun begins."

* * *

It was all over in less than an hour. The jury suddenly met and voted 3 to 1 to drop all charges against Regina that took place prior to the curse. "Precedent-setting," Loreena had cackled by way of explanation to Emma, as she scooped up her papers and the pair headed outside. "The other royals don't want to be hoist on Regina's petard. Such a can of worms, those pesky war crimes. The line gets real blurry for royalty. They were really hoping no one had noticed."

When Archie had made the announcement, banged his gavel adjourning proceedings until tomorrow, the court room had erupted in protest. By the time Loreena and Emma had fought their way outside, the anti-monarchist sentiment was reaching fever pitch.

Loreena, naturally, was loving it.

Emma shot her a look as they emerged outside the court room's huge main doors, below them a sea of chanting protestors demanding everything from the end to political corruption, an end to monarchies and an end to royal-mandated massacres.

" _This_  was your grand idea? Stoke a revolution?" Emma said gazing at the angry faces.

"It worked, didn't it?" Loreena looked well pleased.

"I suppose. They didn't drop any of the charges post curse, though." Emma eyed her. "Regina could still be executed for those."

"She won't be," Loreena said as her eyes gleamed as they roamed the scenes of chaos she'd created. "The worst of the crimes that Regina did were performed when she was their evil queen. The people seem remarkably forgiving of her mayoral incarnation."

"But Graham… and Kurt," Emma mumbled. "She still killed.  _After_  casting the curse."

"Yes," Loreena agreed. "And as you saw today, except for a tiny handful of residents, so did  _they_. Most of everyone in that room has blood on their hands, and not all because they were forced to either. You're not of our world, so you can't understand that it really is a different morality at play for these people raised in those times."

"It was cold-blooded killing," Emma said, struggling. "Just because she felt threatened with exposure or angry, she killed two men. How can anyone be OK with that?"

Loreena peered at her as if she was a particularly foolish child. "Oh they know well what she did and they know why. And they understand that. They won't necessarily forgive her or trust her, at least not in the short term. But they understand her. In a way, we all do. She is most definitely a product of her times and what others did to her. They do get that."

Emma stared at her. "Sometimes I think you're all just as crazy as she was."

Loreena smirked and locked her eyes on green ones. Her voice was ever so faintly mocking. "Different times, different realms, different rules. Weren't you paying attention at all today, sheriff?"

Emma sighed. "This is all so nuts. So what will happen to her now?"

"The jury is meeting tomorrow to go over the rest of her crimes, but I know what they'll decide. It's a tried and true method of royals ridding themselves of uncomfortable problems that are not seemly to kill. They might have gone for the death penalty if it wasn't for so many openly siding with her now. Besides, Eugenia and Abigail's hearts weren't ever really in it. Thomas was for the turning either way. The only real enemies she had at that trial were Frederick and George. Especially George. But I had him stitched up early."

"Uh, what?!"

"Who do you think put the idea into the egotistical cretin's head that a hate campaign against Regina would work wonders? And then who suggested Matt might know some youths carrying out the crimes you were investigating."

"Oh shit. I didn't just hear that." Emma rubbed her head. "So what punishment will they decide for Regina do you think?"

"They'll banish her for the rest of her life. To some godforsaken land without magic, and somewhere far from their homeland so they can be free of her if they so desire. She'll be forbidden from setting foot back in the Enchanted Forest. She'll be stripped of all her money and lands and titles."

"Um, but that sounds exactly like Storybrooke. And she's already given up her home and money and title."

"Yes, it does sound like Storybrooke, doesn't it?" Loreena replied slowly as though the thought had just occurred to her. "They're so appallingly predictable, the royals. Is it any wonder I figured it was time we had a revolution? The people are just as bored with their idiocy and arrogance as they are angry with them."

Loreena gestured to a dozen protestors in the swelling anti-monarchy crowd with hastily scrawled "Free Regina" signs.

"That's new. Mark my words, by tomorrow there'll be twice as many and the next day, 50 more. Unpopular opinion seems to be turning."

"But why is it turning now?"

"Because the establishment, the royals, are still condemning her. They're desperate to distance themselves from Regina's wicked deeds, given her crimes suddenly sound suspiciously like their own sanctioned deeds. And when the ruling powers say one thing, the protestors always want the opposite. Do you really understand so little about populist uprisings? Honestly Swan, did you even pass the Sheriff Department IQ test?"

"Not that I recall," Emma grinned.

"Figures."

A shimmer to one side caught their attention. Several people were activating their beans and leaping into a their old world.

"It's beginning," Loreena said thoughtfully. "The splintering. People are deciding now where they want their futures to be."

Even as she said it a loud honking gave way to cheers and they turned to see a station wagon driving by, laden down with household luggage and gear, contents of a family's former home strapped to its back. Its inhabitants were waving and hooting as they headed for the border. For a new life.

"Lots of options now," Loreena said. "Plenty of choices for them. They just needed the trial for closure, most of them. To hear what they wanted said to be said. Their rulers shamed and put in their places for misdeeds. It was little more than kabuki theatre to some of them. Half of them won't even care about the verdict. They all know what it is, the same as I do. But now they're ready and can all move on."

"What will you do?" Emma asked. "Now you can do anything, go anywhere?"

The woman gave a stunning smile. It took Emma aback. "You know you're the first person to ask me that. As it turns out Regina left me a priceless gift." She reached into her pocket and reverently pulled out a letter. It was slightly dog-eared as if it had been read many times. Emma recognised the handwriting as Regina's.

She read, her eyes growing wider. "They can do this? At this medical facility? You'll actually be able to walk some day?"

Loreena nodded. "Not just some day - in about a month it seems. I looked them up, and they really are world class and have expertise in this procedure. So, after everything, Regina did come through for me in the end."

"And you came through for her," Emma replied. "I never thought I'd say this, but thanks. You were just… well. Freaking good.  _Incredible_." Her face twisted as though the words pained her.

Loreena's eyes danced. "Don't thank me yet. You're the one who's probably going to be stuck having to live a long, long life with Regina Mills. There are much easier fates. I know - I was that demanding woman's secretary for thirty years. And don't start me on her twisted excuse for a sense of humor."

"Oh please, you loved it," Emma scoffed but couldn't ignore the swell of hope over her prediction for her future. "Part of you probably even loved her."

"Now I know you're suited to a life with her. You're both partial to madness."

Loreena reached into her handbag and pulled out her sunglasses. "It's time I was elsewhere. I don't expect I'll see you tomorrow at court? No doubt you have grand plans. Camped in the middle of nowhere?"

Emma reddened and Loreena eyed her knowingly.

"That's what I thought. Part of me would love to watch her face when you play back that video." She smirked then looked at her watch. "I need to get going. Tomorrow - I can text you the verdict if you want."

"I- yes… that'd be great."

Loreena nodded. "Have a good life, Swan. I don't expect we'll be meeting again."

"You too, Loreena. Bad attitude and verbal napalm aside, you're alright."

"Please," she scorned, "There's nothing wrong with my attitude."

Her face was stern but Emma could see the sides of her eyes crinkling.

A scuffle to one side caught her attention and the sheriff sighed and waded towards it, rolling up her sleeves. She glanced back to see Loreena rolling away with an elderly woman who had just emerged from the crowd. The pair were talking animatedly, faces relaxed.

Emma grinned as she turned back to the rabble. Looks like pretty much everyone was getting their happy endings, in one form or another.

 


	73. MIRROR MIRROR

Loreena was not sorry to be leaving Storybrooke. Not sorry to be leaving her ridiculously oversized mansion. Although she was rather pleased she'd had one party there that used every one of the luxurious features she'd ignored for three decades. She tried to tell herself, as she pushed her luggage to the high-end modified vehicle that had come with the house, that she was not sorry if she never saw another soul from this godforsaken curse town again.

But she knew she'd be lying. There was Josephine, for one. How unexpected to find a friend this late in the piece. Loreena had proven to herself emphatically for thirty years that she needed no one. And yet, there she was. Everywhere she turned, Josephine appeared - suggesting a coffee at Granny's, a lunch at her cottage or a hand of gin rummy. Turned out the old duck adored her card games.

Loreena didn't have the heart to explain to her that games of chance were for the weak of mind. And, to her surprise, she'd found herself sitting opposite, learning the nuances of a hobby she'd long derided. Simply because it made someone else happy.

_How unexpected indeed._

Then there was Regina. If she was being totally honest - and when wasn't she? – Loreena was sorry she'd never get a chance to say goodbye to the woman who had profoundly changed the course of her life three times, in two different worlds.

Once, by demanding she improve herself and learn to read instead of wallowing in self-pity. Second, by giving her a position of importance in Storybrooke that showed her what she was capable of. Running towns is no small thing. Regina had faith in her. Loreena would never forget that.

And finally there was the gift. And what a gift it was.

So she admitted she was genuinely sorry she'd never get the chance to say goodbye. She'd asked Josephine to pass along a letter to rectify this. Better not to be there anyway, in case either one of them succumbed to an unfortunate emotional display.

_God forbid._

Thinking of Regina, she considered the previous morning at court. Snow's closing argument had been some whiny drivel about second chances and the power of love and redemption. Most everyone's eyes had glazed over – well except for David's who Loreena suspected would begin empathetically weeping any moment if his wife hadn't sat down when she did. They exchanged intense, loving gazes that made everyone in the room uncomfortable and forced Archie to clear his throat and say "Er, yes, well thanks for that, Snow."

Damned by faint praise indeed.

There had been nothing at all in the woman's argument to convince a jury – especially  _this_  jury – to spare their former evil queen. It was generic, empty, Hallmark-card pap that could have applied to a thousand people accused of any number of crimes. Not for the first time, Loreena wondered why on earth Regina had thought her former stepdaughter could ever be a useful defense counsel.

 _Honestly_ , Loreena humphed,  _did she have to do everything herself?_

Her own closing argument had been powerful, brilliant, cunning and … completely wasted. Only Snow seemed suitably awed. The courtroom, however, was barely a third filled as most residents had by now begun making plans in earnest for their future. Regina no longer concerned them – and why should she, as she had not one jot of influence on their days ahead.

Those who'd wanted the truth to come out about their various leaders seemed satisfied. Those still angry at royals in general were outside excitedly waving placards. But very few residents seemed to feel personally victimised by Regina Mills – well, not anymore. Not once they knew the full grotesque catastrophe of her life. Even that teary mechanic Michael had slunk off and not bothered to show up for the final day.

And as for the jury – despite their deliciously obvious flinches throughout Loreena's closing arguments – her sly jibes about the royal hypocrisy in singling out Regina, their morass of double standards, and how they should be the wise, good leaders they proclaimed to be, not the ones they pretended to be – they'd clearly already decided Regina's fate. As expected.

To her satisfaction she'd predicted the almost exact sentence, too.

Loreena had rolled out of court, ignoring the few well-wishers who seemed to think she cared one whit what they thought of her masterful performance, and immediately texted Swan: "Guilty. Exile to SB. All benefits stripped. No travel to FTL ever. Plus comm. service. Hopper wants to see R within 2 days."

She didn't expect a reply – after all, Swan was in the middle of nowhere – but at some point she'd come up for air and find somewhere with reception to check for messages.

She'd love to see the look on Regina's face when she discovered exactly what the community service entailed. But she'd leave that for Hopper to fill Regina in on. Her lips curled into an evil grin. Well the man  _did_  volunteer to be mayor.

Finished with her packing, and checking yet again she had her full set of travel documents in order for the top Swiss clinic she was heading for, she felt a shadow cross her path.

"Dear, leaving so soon?"

Josephine had promised to see her off. Loreena, however, had been wondering if she could sneak away without a fuss. She was actually going early to avoid any emotional moments. Loreena looked up guiltily but, before she could answer, the elderly woman continued.

"I was hoping you could give me a lift to the airport in Boston, too? Since you're going there yourself and I don't drive. I have some grand plans to see something of the world before I die." She whipped a plane ticket out of her handbag and waved it triumphantly. Her entire face was diffused with enthusiasm.

Loreena raised a surprised eyebrow – this was the first she'd heard of it. She smiled in agreement though, discovering herself thankful for the company for the next few hours, and wordlessly popped her trunk again. She hauled herself into the driver's seat from her wheelchair and murmured thanks when Josephine folded up her chair and snapped it into its compartment for her.

"I have to make one stop first," Loreena said before she started the engine. She reached into her pocket and held up the portal-jumping bean that came with her letter. "I believe I've finally thought of a use for this accursed thing. Something that will do everyone a favour."

"Is that so?" Josephine asked as she settled herself into the passenger seat as the car purred into life.

"Have you ever heard of Neverland?" Loreena asked, pulling away slowly. "Do you think it's as grim as the people here claim?"

"Much worse," Josephine said in a knowing tone. "How can it be anything less than horrible with a tyrannical man-child stealing little boys and running a Lord of the Flies cult?"

"That's what I was thinking, too," Loreena murmured and gave a slow smile. "Interesting."

Within a few minutes she pulled up at her stop and grinned at Josephine who raised her fine grey eyebrows. "Oh," the older woman said and then blinked as she understood. "I see. How … innovative of you."

"I like to think so." Loreena glanced at her folded wheelchair and then said something she'd never uttered before in her life.

"Can you … uhm … give me a hand with it? It'll be faster, that's all."

Five minutes later, and minus one magic bean, they were underway again and heading for the border.

Josephine serenely gazed out the window and made no further comment on Loreena's unorthodox stop.

"So you never did say," the secretary asked her curiously, "where in the world you're heading to."

"Switzerland," came the satisfied reply. "I hear there's a great medical facility there. Thought I might check it out between the hot chocolates and mountain views. Like I said, my dear, I've always wanted to travel the globe."

She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Loreena sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes suddenly stinging. Deciding to accompany her for life-changing surgery. So she wouldn't be alone. There was a long silence and, after a moment, a faint whoosh as they crossed the Storybrooke border.

"Oh," Loreena finally replied in a strangled voice.  _Was she actually going to cry?_  "That's…"

She sniffed.  _Oh god. No. She_ was _._

She felt a wizened hand pat hers on the steering wheel. Then a kindly voice completed her sentence. "That's what friends do, dear."

* * *

**THE PREVIOUS DAY**

Regina, eyes shut fast, made it to four minutes 33 seconds in the icy cold waters of the stream this morning and declared herself satisfied. She stopped mentally counting and sat up, naked and shivering, and reached blindly for her towel, her eyes still blinking away the water.

The object she was fumbling for suddenly came to her.

Regina's eyes flashed open and found a hand holding her striped blue towel out to her. An achingly familiar voice said softly. "Hey."

Emma was crouched by the river, in jeans, boots, white singlet and blue jacket, a duffel bag and a scuffed laptop bag at her feet. "Sorry to interrupt your bath." Roaming green eyes said she wasn't really exactly  _that_  sorry.

Regina peered at Emma uncertainly, almost afraid to ask whether this was just a dream, or if she had been immersed in the water so long she was now hallucinating. Warm hands wrapped the towel around her and then the other woman stepped back. Green eyes assessed her.

"You've lost weight," she said and Regina knew instantly she wasn't dreaming.

"Really? After three months apart, that's your opening gambit?" Regina said drolly and gave her a tiny smile as she towelled the water slowly off her limbs. "Smooth."

Emma's lips twitched. "Oh right. Yeah." She glanced down and muttered to her boots. "You still look beautiful."

Regina's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Emma blushed faintly and mumbled: "Well you do. I'd have to be blind not to see it. And I'm not blind."

Regina dropped her towel, stretching her nude, now dry, body for a moment, and grinned inwardly at Emma's eyes unsubtly tracking her every movement. Darting from arms, to breasts, down to toned thighs and up a little bit …

Emma swallowed and glanced away.

Regina slipped on her grey bath robe, stepped into her sandals, then ran a hand through her wet hair to slick it back. She knotted the robe efficiently.

She slung the towel over her shoulder, ready to walk back to camp, and glanced at Emma.

"Is it time? For me to return and face the judgment?"

Emma shook her head. "Later today is the verdict but you don't have to be there for the circus. Archie's giving us a little leeway. Anyway Loreena is convinced you'll only be exiled to Storybrooke and banned from ever going back there. She's gonna text me so we have the head's up."

Regina felt the strength leave her legs. Her knees gave out and sat heavily in the dirt. "They don't want to execute me?" She said in wonder.

She had been so certain. She knew she was loathed. Knew her awful crimes. It seemed so cut and dried. "Why on earth not?" she asked in exasperation.

"You sound disappointed," Emma said dryly.

"I-I… I was so sure," Regina stuttered. "But why? What about my confession? I mean Item 13 at least…" She trailed off. Unwilling to name the crime out loud. Not in front of present company.

"Item 13," Emma winced. "Well, yeah, that was nasty. It all was but  _that_  …" She trailed off and glanced at the horizon. The rising sun was still low in the sky and the long shadows gave the area a ghostly appearance. "Anyway, No. 13 probably would have sealed your fate if not for Loreena," Emma said, still gazing into the distance.

"What on earth did she say?" Regina said disbelievingly. How could  _anyone_  successfully justify a massacre?

Emma turned back and gave a sardonic bark of laughter. "She implicated all of the royals in similar crimes, some way worse than yours, and asked them why you had been singled out not them."

"But that doesn't make doing it right," Regina said in confusion. "It means we're  _all_  wrong."

"Exactly," Emma agreed. " _Exactly_. And when spelt out like that, the jury collectively shat itself – well the royals at least - and they got enraged and terrified and demanded Archie drop all the pre-curse charges against you."

"Subtle," Regina snorted. She stopped as she considered the import of that. "I bet that went down well with the unwashed masses," she suggested slowly. "The people aren't  _entirely_  fools. They had to have known why many of my charges were dropped."

"Oh they knew. Some of them are pretty mad about how blatantly self-serving it was. There's an anti-monarchy revolution underway that Loreena's been merrily stoking. Not against you, funnily enough, but the other royals for trying to save their skins and screw the court process. I left David trying to keep everyone under control at the protests, but it's a bit hard to keep a lid on them given he's a royal, too."

"What about Henry?" Regina asked sharply, eyes snapping up to Emma's. "He's a royal. Is he safe?"

"I sent him to Matt and Archie's until this dies down. And Henry's great. He was over the moon when I told him you'll probably be OK after the verdict. He wanted me to to tell you he was still doing his homework even though he doesn't see the point in the middle of a revolution."

Emma laughed and then stopped abruptly, looking uncomfortable. If Regina didn't know any better she'd say it's because she hadn't done much of it lately. As she took in her lover's face more closely, she could see the shadows under eyes and the pull of the lines at the sides of Emma's mouth.

"And you," she asked quietly reaching for Emma's fingers. "Are you doing OK?"

Emma extracted her hand gently. "Ups and downs. I kinda lost it at one point. The vandals did something and it really got to me. But Archie was there, so…"

She shook her head. "It's been hard. I've been fighting so hard understanding … well, reconciling more like it, who you were and what you are now. And how I feel about that."

Regina could hear her voice tremble. "And did you form any conclusions?"

Emma laughed again, a brittle sound, worse than before. Regina winced. "I kept thinking I wanted to hate you but what did I spend every spare second of the last three months doing? Searching for you. And then Snow finally told me she couldn't understand why I was fighting love." She glanced at Regina. "I was fighting it because it's completely nuts to love an Evil Queen."

Regina swallowed. "I know."

"No you don't get it. I worked out in the end I was fighting this because I thought I  _should_  fight loving an evil queen. I thought people would think I was fucked up. Hell I thought maybe I  _was_  fucked up. I lost all sense of perspective. I was afraid and angry. It was so messed up."

She gave a disbelieving laugh. "And I was completely wrong – about them anyway. The people of fairytale land have this saying I've heard many times now – different times, different realms, different rules. And they really believe it. That seems to be the foundation for explaining away a mountain of bad shit we'd never dream of brushing aside in this world. They just accept it was the way things were and move on with a shrug once they feel someone has been publicly shamed or punished for it.

"It makes me the odd one out. I don't get how so many of them can just go with the flow on any of the fucked up shit that went down over there. Yet they act like that's the least of their worries - who you were and who I love. Hell maybe it  _is_  the last thing on their minds. But for me it's not so easy. For me it's all I can think about. I think all the time: What does it say about me that I love you?"

Regina winced. "Why thank you," she muttered.

"Oh … shit. That came out wrong."

"It came out the way you meant it. Are you afraid you're so worthless that  _I'm_  as good as it gets?" Regina asked archly, although her heart sank. "May as well get it all out."

She glanced at her nails, rubbing them with her thumb, almost afraid Emma would confirm her suspicions.

Emma looked stricken. "I… what?"

"You feel guilty for loving me," Regina clarified. She peered at her. "I saw it on your face the night the curse broke. You hated yourself for it. For caring for someone  _like me._  And you still do. I understand. It's understandable."

She felt her heart really would break this time and stared vacantly at the dirt in front of her, eyes tracking a browned leaf scudding past in the faint breeze.

Regina felt fingers entwining in hers and she looked down at their joined hands. Her heart slowed its frantic thudding.

Emma said nothing for a beat and then squeezed her hand firmly. "I'm sorry about that night. I said some shitty things. I know I meant them at the time and they had to hurt. I thought it was all a lie, like our whole relationship was built on sand. A trick. I was so angry and shocked that I'd thrown away my heart on someone I assumed was heartless."

Regina snorted softly. "Oh how many times did I wish I really was heartless. The irony is it was my heart that got me into this whole mess to start with," she murmured.

"I think I always had too much heart. I felt every emotion too much. Be it love or rage, pain or humiliation. Or maybe it's because I suppressed them for too long with Leopold. It's taken a long time to learn to let go of things. I have Dr Hopper to thank for the outcome, but  _you_  were my motivation. I couldn't stand the thought of not having you in my life. And in the end I made a conscious decision - I broke the curse because I loved you and I couldn't bear you believing I didn't when I wouldn't say the words."

"I know." Emma smiled wanly and tightened her grip on Regina's fingers. "I'm a bit dense, so it took me a bit of time to figure out that you couldn't have broken the curse if you didn't completely love me. That it couldn't have been some trick. And then I realised, later still, that you were  _my_  true love. Because, again, the curse broke. And it takes two.

"It fucked me up for ages to think the universe had fated my heart for someone everyone hated and whose name is used as a terrible threat. I figured everyone in Storybrooke would now know how messed up I was. I felt like it was branded on my forehead."

Emma wiped her eyes and added. "I'm sorry. I know how this must sound to you – that I don't think you're worth loving."

Regina stared sadly at her. "A lot of people would agree."

Emma shook her head angrily. "Well they're just assholes. And this was definitely my issue, not yours. Please believe that. You are  _so_  worth loving. But I got side tracked for awhile by my own crap and fears. I was the one no one wanted as a kid. I always dreamed it'd get better. When I lived on the streets I thought, 'Hey, one day someone will love me and everything will be great, and I'll have friends and be popular and …' I never thought I was destined to be with someone that everyone would cringe at the mere idea of. I never thought me loving could ever be a  _bad_  thing. But when it all came out, I was completely blindsided and gutted. Like this absolutely proved I was  _nothing_  after all. Worthless."

Regina frowned, unable to fault a child's logic, and unable not to feel hurt by it.

"I was in turmoil after the curse broke," Emma continued. "My head was all over the place. It was hard to eat or sleep. In the end all I knew was that I just had to find you. I couldn't stop feeling drawn to you no matter how hard I tried to fight my feelings.

"And when finally Snow said 'The heart wants what it wants', it clicked. I thought that's the only thing that actually makes sense. For the first time I really exhaled. I told my stupid brain with its crippling foster-kid issues to shut the hell up and I sat down and considered what I wanted. And what I want is  _you_."

"But you still feel guilty for loving me," Regina said softly.

"More like … troubled?" Emma admitted. She licked her lips anxiously. "Just a bit. But I'm trying. I'm not like everyone else in this town. I don't have the context that comes from growing up in your world. I heard stories of your early life in court and it was like hearing a seriously fucked up fantasy novel. Raping asshole kings, forced marriages and massacres and fairytale creatures at war. It was so surreal. I just sat there in shock for most of it. I kept thinking 'I'm in love with this woman, and she's an evil queen. What the hell does that say about me that I can't stop loving her?'. Then I'd go home and cry like a girl because you meant everything to me. You still do."

"Emma," Regina said and caught her chin in her fingers, forcing her to look at her. "You want to know what it says? You seem to forget that when we met, and when we fell in love, it was before you knew who I was. And it was long after I still considered myself  _that_  woman. So what does it say about you? It says you fell in love with the mayor of a small town and the mother of your son. Nothing more.

Emma looked at her with surprise. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Could you have loved the Evil Queen if we met in the old world? I doubt it. So no, you shouldn't torture yourself about who I once was. That woman is no one you've even met. You chose a mayor, do you hear me? If anyone gives you grief for loving me, remember,  _that's_  who you chose. And by the way, I love that you never knew me the way everyone else in this town does. I love that you never looked at me that way in all the time we were together. You have no idea what that feels like."

Emma gave a shaky exhale and leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the side of her mouth. "I'd forgotten how smart you can be at times," she murmured in her ear.

"At times?" Regina arched her eyebrow. "Really, dear."

Emma laughed and this time there was nothing brittle or uncomfortable about it. Regina responded with a tentative smile, feeling tendrils of real hope curl through her for the first time in months.

Emma turned suddenly, rifling through her bag. "I almost forgot. I brought you a present. Of sorts."

She pulled out her laptop. "I thought you might want to see Snow on the stand. Loreena questioned her."

Regina felt her entire heart freeze and her eyes blinked rapidly. "I… Did she – did she do a good job?" She swallowed as her mouth felt suddenly dry.

"Who? Loreena? Are you kidding me?" Emma scoffed. "It was like a 10-car pileup you can't tear your eyes away from. Every time I thought the worst was over another car was added to the wreckage." She shuddered. "It was pretty horrible. But it was necessary if everyone was ever to understand why you were who you were. Especially Snow."

Regina, with fingers shaking, pulled the laptop closer and watched as Emma pressed play. As the first questions were being asked, her fingers grew whiter and whiter around the edge of the laptop she held. Finally she leaned over and pressed pause. "Not here," she said gruffly. "I need to be feeling safe. Let's go to my tent."

Emma nodded and picked up her gear, while Regina scooped up her towel and stalked off, trying desperately to hide her shaking legs.

Behind her she heard, belatedly: "Oh. Yeah, that's cool. Let's go."

* * *

Emma had had surreal days in her time. Having a kid announce himself in her kitchen as her son? That was one. Finding out her mother was Snow freaking White – yeah. That was a big one. The curse being real – well if that wasn't top of the list.

But very little came close to sitting cross-legged on a blanket on a tent floor beside a former evil queen who was hugging her knees, trembling and peering at a laptop screen as her abusive past was laid out point by point in public.

Regina didn't say much. She had gasped three times. A small noise interrupted Emma's thoughts.

_Make that four._

She had clutched her robe hem once, hugged her knees in an anaconda grip seven times and squeezed Emma's fingers once so tightly that she wondered if the circulation would ever return. Now Regina was listening to the nurse's statement about her condition after a night spent with Leopold, and her dark brown eyes were glistening.

Emma's heart went out to her and she felt as she did the first time she'd heard the testimony. How alone Regina had been. How isolated. How terrifying. She reached over and rubbed circles against the small of her back while they both pretended the former evil queen hadn't just bitten back a small sob.

Snow was on the video reacting with shock to Nurse Miller's statement and a grim cold smile curved across Regina's lips. "See? I told her she was oblivious," Regina muttered. "I  _told_  her." She stabbed an accusing finger at the screen. "Oh-fucking-blivious."

Emma merely nodded and rubbed her back some more, a little shocked to hear a profanity spill from Regina's mouth. But if ever there was a time, this would be it.

By the time Loreena had finished eviscerating Leopold's good name and Snow's appalled expression filled the frame, Regina was weeping silently, not bothering to wipe the tears away, having muttered a commentary throughout. Usually just a bitter word here or there. Sometimes an extra detail not known.

When it was done she leaned forward, and her hand went out to the screen. One finger shakily touched Snow's face and then dropped. Another tortured sniff.

Emma tightened the arm around her waist. "Hey, shhh, it's OK."

"I never thought I'd see the day," Regina began in a slow voice. "Did you see that, where she said she understood why I felt the way I did? You can see it in her eyes. She knows there what her darling daddy was really like." There was wonder. A small shocked head shake.

Emma nodded. "Yeah, she knows," she said soothingly. "She knows now."

Regina turned to her fully and frowned. "I always thought I'd feel so much better shattering her illusions about that bastard. I thought it'd be wonderful to finally have a sweet moment of vindication."

Emma's eyebrows lifted. "It isn't?"

Regina turned back to the screen and examined Snow's shocked expression. "All that's happened is now there are two of us hurting instead of one. The net result is just more pain."

This time it was Emma's turn to gasp.

"What?" Regina asked.

Emma's mouth fell open. "Hell, I knew you'd changed," she said. "But God! This is surreal. Sympathy for Snow?! You are so not  _Her_  now, are you?"

Regina glared at her, offended. She crossed her arms. "Of course not," she growled. "I haven't been Her since the day they put my son in my arms."

Emma hesitated. This again. "But Graham… I mean he … you killed him  _after_  that. After getting Henry."

"That was an awful  _accident_. I thought you understood. I never ever meant to kill him. I was so angry and my control slipped."

"I…"

"You don't believe me?"

"I was unsure. I…" She stared at Regina's brown eyes, filled with remorse, anger, and pain. "I just, he was a good guy. I liked him. It's never been right he died like that. And it was a fight about me, because of my smart angry mouth."

Regina sighed. "Graham's death was because of me, Emma – and my temper, not yours. Your pushing my buttons is not the cause. And I will take that regret, along with all the other regrets, to my grave. It should never have happened.  _Never_."

Regina's face was sombre and still, waiting for Emma's verdict.

She dropped her head to Regina's shoulder. "I believe you."

Regina exhaled quietly and nodded. Both their eyes settled back on the laptop screen. Loreena now had everyone on their feet or sitting depending on their culpability in killing people. Regina's eyes bugged out and she suddenly started to laugh. It was a rich, throaty sound that broke the melancholy. "Oh God, I can't believe she's doing this! And everyone's letting her! Wait. Why is Archie still standing?"

"Something to do with his parents," Emma replied and shrugged. "No one wanted to ask him, he seemed too sad."

"Oh," Regina said and some of the hilarity washed away. Then she laughed again at the animated gasps at Matt being unmasked as a non-killer. "Oh, ooh" she said again, with a smirk, "I think some of them are about to pass out. I appreciate you panned the camera to the crowd for me."

Emma grinned. "It was too funny not to. And yeah, I thought the medic might have to be called in. Look at that woman over there in the green top. She's actually slapping the back of her hand to her forehead."

A few minutes later, at Loreena's taunting the royals and comparing massacres, Regina shook her head. "You weren't kidding about the 10-car pile-up. I had no idea she was this good. Did you know when I met Loreena she couldn't even read? She was this impoverished beggar girl, with long matted hair, rags for clothes, and a wicked tongue which spewed the most creative insults I'd ever heard. 'Blacker than Snow White's heart' remains my personal favourite," Regina said and she snickered.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I bet."

"She impressed me," Regina continued. "She was fearless. She didn't care who I was – she had this spark and her eyes _dared_  me. Dared me to treat her as anything less than my equal. And right then I knew when I cast the curse I wanted to have a special Loreena clause in there. Anyone who's suffered as much as she has deserved a second chance at life."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Emma grinned widely.

"What?" Regina asked in confusion.

"That's why," the blonde said simply.

"Why what?"

"Why your 'unwashed masses' as you call them want to let you live. So you'd get a second chance. People generally don't want to kick a snapping dog when they learn it's already spent a lifetime being kicked."

"Emma, the jury's three-quarters royals. And they don't want their dirty laundry mixed with mine. If I live,  _that's_  why. It's just politically expedient. Nothing to do with the masses."

Emma grinned. "Meh. The people swayed it. Did you know there are 'Free Regina' protesters on the streets now? And over 100 people went to Loreena to give her information that could help you."

Regina stared in astonishment. "No."

"If the people were out calling for your head, it would have been easy for the jury to give it to them," Emma continued. "But you have supporters now. Your story – your life – has moved a lot of them. They understand you now. They want you to have a second chance.  _I_  want you to have a second chance."

Regina rubbed her head as if she had a headache. "I … I really can't understand it at all. Why they are so forgiving…" she trailed off.

Emma tilted her head. "I know. It's hard for you to understand why people would care for you when you don't think you deserve it deep down. See  _that_ , I get."

Regina froze, stabbing "Pause" with her index finger and turned to face her. "Emma," she said seriously, and her eyes searched the blonde's face. "I don't care about them. The people on the streets waving their protest signs for or against me. So what. Or those in court gasping or gaping at the grotesque spectacle that was my life. They mean nothing to me. Whether I deserve their consideration or not, is entirely irrelevant. I just care that  _you_  understand me. That's what I appreciate. And that's what I love most about you."

"Oh fuck it." Emma groaned. "Sometimes the perfect things you say… I just..." She suddenly leaned forward and grabbed Regina by the lapels of her bathrobe and lowered her to the floor, kissing her thoroughly. She pulled back, stared into brown eyes darkening with desire, shook her head once and went for it again.

She felt Regina's hands come up around her back, clenching and unclenching her jacket as she lavished the soft lips moving against hers with all her attention. She heard a groan against her throat as Regina dropped her head and began to nibble against her neck. Then came the delicious sound of a ragged intake of breath.

Emma sat up and wrenched off her clothing and was barely naked before Regina was tugging her back down again, hungrily kissing a line down her neck and to her breasts, feverishly working across to her rock-hard nipples, nipping them fiercely.

Arousal shot straight to her core and Emma felt the sides of Regina's robe slowly drop apart. Their naked centres were now touching and Emma moaned as she rubbed herself against her lover, revelling in the slickness. Their shared heat was at meltdown levels.

She unknotted Regina's robe and flung it apart so her whole body could feel skin beneath her. Breasts moved against breasts, stomachs undulated together, and short curls tangled and tugged, matted with wetness. All the while their tongues explored each other's skin, as hands wandered, across backs, breasts and backsides.

Emma could hear how shaky Regina's breath was becoming - short sharp gasps every time she pushed her hips down and rocked. She slipped her fingers between them, parting her own labia and Regina's to increase the intensity.

This time when the friction of their two centres met, Regina's toes curled and her eyes fluttered shut. She surged hard against Emma and cried out, fingers clenching into biceps, back arching up, taut. Her face was a picture of pleasure and surprise, as if she had never expected such intensity. But those low, breathy moans were what undid Emma. She was addicted to watching Regina Mills coming apart like this, losing her grip on control, her hair sticking to her face, eyes burning like coals, her heat thrusting against Emma so frantically as if she couldn't get enough of her.

But when she called her name urgently, cried out for her desperately as she came down from her high, that was the moment Emma was lost forever.

The blonde felt two fingers insinuate themselves between their trembling bodies and curl up inside her and it tipped her over the edge. Emma's own orgasm was blindingly powerful and, in a split second during her ecstasy, the question she'd been asking herself for months was splayed across her mind like her beautiful, trembling lover.

Why did she love an evil queen? What did it say about Emma?

As she floated down from her peak, thighs quivering, arms shaking with exertion, in a flash of insight she understood the answer.

Because it was meant to be. They we were meant to be.

There  _was_  no hidden message from the universe. No overthinking involved. That's all there was to it. Just two women in love.

She smiled then, a radiant smile she hadn't felt like offering in three long months. Regina was looking at her with a half smile of her own. "That good, dear?"

"Oh definitely," Emma breathed. "That good. To think I thought there was ever a possibility of giving you up," she added softly as she caught her breath. Her pulse was thundering against her neck. She swallowed. "I must have been insane."

"Certifiably," Regina agreed lazily and licked her lips. "And I'm not done with you yet. Roll off me."

Regina waited for Emma to move and then smiled seductively as she achingly slowly parted her legs. Emma went red as she watched. She could see the evidence of arousal as swollen, flushed lips glistened.

"God." She glanced away, unwilling to be teased for ogling.

"I didn't say you could stop watching," Regina said in a throaty, amused voice that dared her to disobey.

It sent a thrill down Emma's spine, who snapped her eyes back to the dark curls.

Regina's fingers slid down her own body and she began, so, so slowly, to play with herself, eyes never leaving Emma's. Fingers danced all around. "I want you to touch me like this."

Emma nodded numbly, eyes riveted. The fingers slipped inside and Regina bit back a moan. Her eyes burned as they stared at Emma. " _Exactly_  like this."

"Are you sure?" Emma whispered, watching intently. "I mean, i-inside? We haven't…"

"Yes," Regina interrupted. Her voice was gravelly, low, like furtive, hurried sex up against a wall in a dark alley. It was doing seriously crazy things to Emma and she swallowed compulsively.

"Oh fuck," she ground out softly.

"That's the idea. We've waited long enough."

Their eyes met in understanding and Regina's lip teasingly curled in invitation.

And then Emma was on her. Kissing her, touching her, nibbling her, licking her, and her hand had slipped between muscled olive-skinned thighs and was rubbing as if her life depended on it.

Finally, after spreading the already copious moisture around every part of Regina's lower lips, her fingers slid down to her entrance, swirled, and paused. A firm jerk of Regina's hips, pushing herself onto Emma's poised fingers, answered the silent question. Emma felt her heart thudding and gently entered her fully.

She felt soft inside, hot, slippery and Regina's body kept drawing her in deeper. Sliding onto her.

"More," Regina urged hoarsely. "Oh please. Emma, yes."

Emma sucked in a shaky breath and added a third finger then slid a thumb up higher. It slid over an erect little nodule that caused Regina to buck.

"Oh," she gasped, and her hips began to move faster. Emma leaned forward and kissed her then, swallowing the little sighs and gasps. Regina now was starting to tremble and Emma kissed her way back down her body, and then moved her lips to her lover's most sensitive spot.

She licked a tentative swirl around her clit. She mapped out any little dips and rises and delicious fleshy distractions, laving them with her tongue. She could feel her own wetness seeping down her inner thighs as she flattened her tongue against Regina's clit and drew it in. Her hand still pumping, she sucked. Hard.

Regina exploded.

Emma rode through the orgasm, and then the twitchy aftershocks, and would have kept kissing her sacred spots forever if Regina hadn't exhaustedly dropped a hand to her blonde curls and half-heartedly pushed. "Enough," she groaned weakly. "I think you've killed your queen."

Emma snickered and slowly slid her fingers out and shimmied her body up Regina's, resting her weight on her, enjoying the feel of arms that immediately clamped around her.

"I … that was…" Regina sputtered. She blew her sweat soaked hair out of her eyes.

Emma held her breath.

"God," Regina huffed. "Stunning. You are exceptional."

Emma grinned against the skin under her mouth and gave it a playful nip.

Regina cracked an eyelid. "What about you? Are you OK?"

Emma knew what she was asking and nodded. Her face curved into a smile. "You tasted delicious."

Regina's face creased into a pleased smile and she shut her eyes. "Ah. Good. Because I could get used to this. A life in exile. You as my sexy sheriff and bed warmer. I do hope you can catch fish though, because I'm over it."

Emma rolled onto her side to relieve Regina of her weight and propped her head up on one arm. "Loreena predicted I had a long, long life ahead of me with you."

"Smart woman that Loreena. Smarter than I ever gave her credit for, in fact."

"She said it like it was a bad thing." Emma grinned.

Regina suppressed a smirk. "She never did appreciate me. Or my refined sense of humor."

Emma flopped on her back and stared at the tent ceiling. "She did appreciate your gift though. She was getting ready to fly out to that Swiss clinic when I left."

"Oh," Regina said after a pause. She hesitated. "So I won't get to say goodbye. And I want to. Especially after her stellar 10-car pile-up courtroom performance."

Emma sat up suddenly and rummaged around in her bag. "Actually her friend, Josephine, dropped around a goodbye note from Loreena for you."

"Loreena has a friend?" Regina asked, eyebrows lifting. "Since when?"

"Well it's been an unusual three months." Emma handed the envelope over.

Regina opened it and smiled when she saw the familiar, beautiful paper stock once more.

She read to herself.

_Dear Regina,_

_I have known you almost all of my life and it's only now when I know I won't see you again that I think I might actually appreciate you a little: For what you are, and who you were (or_ despite _who you were), and especially for the gift you gave me._

_I was angry for years that you didn't help my friend Rosie. She didn't deserve to die like that. Like she was nobody. She was not some throwaway person, unworthy of attention or care or effort. The royals talk a good game but they never really see us. Never look beneath their feet at those suffering. So I was exceptionally angry with them all. And with you.  
_

_But the truth is, I now admit to myself that you_ did _see me. It might just be because we felt the same way about Snow. Or that we were both wounded in similar ways, and could see it - like a mirror reflecting the cracked soul of the other._

_I know you tried to give me a new chance with my exalted life here. For all I received in the curse, I never appreciated what I had. I never did anything with it. I'm well aware. Was it confusing for you? Seeing the woman with all that spark and hungry, restless drive when she was a beggar morph into an overly officious bureaucrat with no life at all in your curse town?_

_The day the curse broke I lay in bed, ashamed of myself. I acknowledge that I had more life in me in the old world than the waste of an existence I frittered away here. So now I'm going to Switzerland to get the surgery, then I'm starting a new life, away from Storybrooke. I will never return._

_I think I have greatness lurking in me, Regina. You saw that in me at a time when I never did. And I saw it in myself when I was fighting for your life in court. I made them all tremble, Regina. And it felt glorious. I know you know what that feels like._

_So now I am taking advantage of my second chance and my newfound courage. Since I won't have to see you again I can say thank you and won't have to watch your insufferable smirk._

_Thank you._

_Before I take my leave, there is one thing I never told you. You should know that that fetid, rotting worm of a man, Sidney Glass, once got intoxicated and told me what happened one awful day between you and Swan. It's not my intention to reopen old wounds but I'm aware that it happened in your home. I know if it were me I could never move on if I had to look at the scene of the incident every day. It would always be there as a painful reminder._

_So: I have left a copy of the keys to my mansion with Mayor Hopper to give to you. Should you wish it, my home is now yours forever. Tell Swan it comes with a pool, griller and 60in HD TV with a cable sports channel. I'm sure her working-class sensibilities will appreciate that. She might want to keep her boots off the antique Tasmanian oak coffee table though. Wherever I am,_ I'll know.

_Anyway, my unlikely mirrored soul, I was thinking perhaps it's time you had a fresh start, too? Not that I'd dream of telling a former Evil Queen what to do. Perish the thought. It's just that my home is now yours if you want it. Call it a 'regifting' of your original present if that makes you feel better._

_Have a good life. Same goes for the not-entirely-annoying Swan._

_With respect and gratitude (stop smirking),_

_Loreena_

_(Your friend)_

Regina passed the letter over to Emma who read it and laughed in all the right places then grew sombre. She put it down thoughtfully.

Neither woman spoke for five minutes. Funny how some subjects return no matter how earnest the attempt is to bury them.

"How do you feel about moving?" Regina finally asked her. "Loreena's mansion is beautiful. I took particular care when enacting the curse that it would be. She's not wrong when she says you'd love it."

Emma was quiet then sighed. "Well I'm not gonna lie and say it was ever easy being in your house. I didn't want to say anything because I know you love that place - but I will always look at the staircase and remember. I hate those stairs so freaking much."

"I hate them, too," Regina confessed. "Especially when you were reduced to crawling up the outside of my balcony rather than use my stairs. I did think about replacing them with something quite different but then I knew that every time I saw the new staircase I'd remember why it was new."

She felt Emma shift over to curl into her arms. She opened her mouth.

"If you're about to say sorry again," Regina threatened her, "I will be gravely disappointed."

Emma's mouth snapped shut and she gave her a crooked, sheepish grin.

Regina smiled. "Better. You're wrong though – about how much I love my old home. It has happy memories with Henry but also others I don't care for. And not just the one you think. The place was always so sterile – it's a reminder of the curse and my uptight mayor's mask as much as anything else. Maybe a change is what we need? For our new life together?"

She suddenly froze. "Oh … am I correct in assuming we  _have_  a life together? That this…" she waved her hand between their bodies, "wasn't just some one-time thing to work out your confusion about me?"

"Just try and get rid of me," Emma said, with deadly earnestness. "I'll be stuck to you like glue now I've found you again. And for the record any lingering confusion evaporated sometime between that first time you put your tongue in my ear and when you called out my name like a Met Opera soprano."

Regina's perfect white teeth gleamed her approval. "Good. Well - I think we should move as soon as possible. And Henry will be happy – Loreena's place is much closer to the stables."

"Mmm," Emma agreed and began nuzzling the chest in front of her. "It's agreed. So if we're quite done with the 'business', can we get back to the 'pleasure'?"

She felt Regina's breath hitch. "I should think so," the former mayor purred. "I think we have a lot of catching up to do."

Arms enfolded Emma's back and fingertips gently raked her skin.

"A lot," Emma agreed fervently. "Now come here," she whispered. "Grab on tight. And don't let go."

Regina smiled softly. "I'm right here, Emma." Her arms tightened. "Never letting go again.  _Never_."


	74. EPILOGUE

**TWO YEARS LATER**

The 60in HD TV was flickering on the lounge room wall as Emma channel-surfed happily, as was her habit. A low hum was all that could be heard as the volume was barely above mute out of consideration for the hard-working former mayor.

Regina was stretched out regally across three of the couch's seats, reading some paperwork, while Emma sat on the fourth, absentmindedly rubbing her lover's black-socked feet in her lap as she watched the screen. A cooled mug of hot chocolate was on the floor at her side and a bag of Doritos was perched on the Tasmanian oak coffee table in front of her.

Corn chips spilled onto the table but Regina was deliberately ignoring the infraction in the interests of domestic harmony. Henry was asleep in his bedroom, the past few days spent visiting his Fairytale Land relatives exhausting him.

Regina's eyes flicked up from her paperwork, taking in the colorful WNBL game. She glanced at the blonde doing miraculous things to her feet. "Could you be any more clichéd? Women's basketball?"

"I didn't think you'd care," Emma grinned. "Those council papers are sooo engrossing, right?"

"Someone has to keep this town's budget balanced. Do you really expect a former cricket has the first clue?"

Emma snorted. But it was a fair point. Regina had been pressed into service as the Storybrooke Council's Treasurer when Archie had finally admitted that the downside of running a town was, well, running it.

To Regina's immense personal satisfaction there had been exactly zero complaints when he'd come to her, begging for her help, a harried look on his pinched features. "Between this and the rezoning applications, Regina, I just cannot see how … I just… You have to help!"

It was the most desperate he'd ever looked. Regina might have huffed for all of three seconds before deciding, but it was all for show. She liked having a purpose, and she liked knowing she kept her town functioning smoothly.

Although it was a much reduced town now.

Only a third of the original inhabitants remained this year, although the numbers shifted dramatically up or down every holiday as relatives from Fairytale Land or Storybrooke grabbed newly harvested beans and jumped realms to see loved ones. Henry enjoyed regular visits with his grandparents, and they in turn came to the modern world once a month, having unofficially taken over Regina's roomier mansion as their Storybrooke headquarters.

To everyone's surprise, it had been at Regina's suggestion. She'd just sniffed indifferently and said it was Henry's house more than anyone's these days and it's what he'd want. Besides, leaving it empty "seemed a waste".

Fairytale Land had never been the same after the initial four long, angry months worth of protests and rallies over in Storybrooke. Although all the monarchs returned to their realms and tried to re-establish their authority, only David and Snow had actually succeeded in retaining their loyal citizens. This was in no small part due to the fact they were on record as not having actually massacred anyone. Much to the other monarchs' chagrin.

Thomas and Cinderella hadn't stayed long in their realm, their people making their displeasure for his partying ways well known. The couple didn't even bother trying to win their people back, returning immediately and settling down for a family life in Storybrooke.

"Antibiotics," was all Cinderella had said when Regina had once asked curiously why they'd so easily given up their throne. Their little girl had been exceptionally sick early on, so Regina had merely nodded, one mother to another. The couple had two children now, along with a modest house near a spacious park, and seemed remarkably content.

Frederick and Abigail had tried and spectacularly failed to retain their position of power and in the end refused to go down without a fight. These days they stubbornly stayed in their castle but ruled absolutely no one. Their vast lands were beautiful, which Abigail appreciated. And if Frederick sometimes stared out from the balcony towards where his estate had once housed a vast army of faithful subjects, no one commented.

Then there was King George. No one had seen him since  _that_  day.

David had headed over to the sheriff's station to bring him lunch given Emma had been off camping with Regina in the final days of the trial. He discovered the jail cell completely empty. As in – no George, no cot bed, no blanket, nothing. Just three walls and bars on the fourth. He'd tested the door, of which he had the only key, and was shocked to find it still firmly locked.

For weeks he interviewed everyone in town who might have known something. He came up blank. The only lead he had was when someone thought they saw Loreena Greene enter the sheriff's department that day and re-emerge five minutes later before leaving Storybrooke for good.

No one had ever seen Greene since, either. So the fate of the newly dubbed "massacring monarch" forever remained a mystery.

Rumpelstiltskin had returned to Storybrooke five months after he'd left - forlorn, curmudgeonly and alone. He barely spoke to anyone anymore and Belle would only say he'd finally found his lost son in New York, and Bae had wanted nothing to do with him. He'd stayed for months trying to convince his boy that he'd changed before finally accepting the inevitable and heartbrokenly leaving him behind a second time.

He and Belle fought often these days about whether or not to return to a realm with magic. The pawnbroker's pleas were countered by wide blue eyes begging that he not return to dark old ways. To temptation. It was an increasingly familiar sight to see the once-feared Dark One pacing up and down Main St late at night, his cane tapping a bruising staccato beat as he tried to reign in his temper about his neutered, powerless existence in Storybrooke.

Archie had recently offered them free couple's counselling. Belle immediately said yes.

Rumpelstiltskin was taking it under advisement.

Over at the stables, Matt was adamant about settling in for the long haul on his beloved horse ranch, and Archie was more than happy to stay at his side. Just as Regina had promised before the curse had broken, fresh mayoral elections were called eleven months later. The psychiatrist won in a landslide – 78% of votes.

But the real news story had been who else had been on the ballot.

Regina smiled at the memory of coming second in that two-horse race. She had read the fine print of her court sentence and discovered she was expected to be stripped of all  _existing_  titles. Nothing in there about preventing her from gaining  _future_  titles.

Oh she had never expected to win as everyone assumed. She hadn't expected it to be close either. People presumed she must have felt embarrassed about the outcome.

She most certainly did not.

It was Emma who finally figured it out a week after her crushing defeat. She nudged her in the ribs one morning, waking her up.

"I get it," she said with a laugh, "You were just using the elections for a free poll of what people think of you now. You wanted to see how hated you still are. Or not."

Regina had cracked an eyelid, unimpressed at being awoken for something so obvious. "Really dear, did you figure this out all by yourself?"

Emma snickered. "So, 22% huh? You got to find out that 22% of Storybrooke doesn't outright hate you. So that's good. Right?"

Regina had sighed and finally opened both her eyes. "Actually, I found out one in five people don't just 'not hate' me but would be happy to have me  _lead_  them again, even knowing who and what I was. That was especially gratifying." She gave a pleased twist of her lips. " _Much_  better than anticipated. I look forward to the next election to see how far my popularity improves. I should probably start planning now."

"Ugh, Regina! You are so…"

"Yes dear?"

"Unbelievable."

"Thank you, dear."

"Not what I meant and you know it."

"Hmm," Regina had purred and let her hands slip over to the gap between Emma's boy shorts and tank top. They settled on bare skin and began to stroke delicately. Goose bumps broke out across Emma's stomach and her breath hitched.

"So are you quite sure you don't want a demonstration? Of my 'unbelievableness'?" Regina asked suggestively.

She heard Emma gulp, and gave a throaty chuckle. "That's what I thought."

The sheriff confirmed, much later and after a few breathy sighs, that polling had vastly underestimated Regina Mills' many talents and boundless appeal.

* * *

Part of Regina's gradual rise in standing, Emma was convinced, was due to the nature of community service she'd been ordered to do. It had made her considerably more approachable, the blonde argued.

Regina could still remember the moment Archie had broken the news to her. She would spend a day in each and every Storybrooke resident's home, doing any manual or desk task they saw fit during that day, to atone personally to all her people for her curse.

Farmer Nate had been the first in line. He'd handed her a shovel, given a toothless smirk and peered at her expectantly.

"I'm sure you know the drill by now," he told her. "You stared at the sheriff in action long enough to know how it's done."

And so Regina Mills, one-time evil queen and terror across five realms, had spent the first day of her exile shovelling shit.

Emma thought it only fair to return past favors and had rocked up to watch, unfolding a chair, stretching out her long legs, and pulling out a picnic hamper. She had at least kept Regina well-fed and watered with copious snacks while playfully calling out "encouraging" technique adjustments and suggesting her ass still looked adorable even covered in shit.

Regina had rolled her eyes and offered more detailed suggestions about what her lover could do with her "helpful" advice, causing Emma to laugh uproariously.

Emma had, however, helped out for most of the afternoon to get it finished, and then spent hours that night showing her just how impressed she was at her lover's willingness to go along with an order designed to demean and humble her. By the end of that first day, Regina came away seeing what should have been a ghastly humiliation as a positive.

After that first day's trial by fire, few tasks thereafter seemed insurmountable, and Emma often came by to give her a hand on the manual labor ones. Regina had come to be very fond of the sight of her girlfriend's biceps rippling under the summer heat as she hauled, dug or toted alongside her.

Some days the former mayor would find herself in an elderly resident's home being asked for help balancing a household budget. Or explaining some confusing council bylaws to them that affected their lives. After a while Regina developed quite the reputation at these tasks in particular, and seemed to have an affinity with those most vulnerable residents.

Emma told her she couldn't have been prouder. Regina had merely rolled her eyes and affected indifference but secretly she loved the warmth she felt inside every time Emma said it.

It took almost 18 months for Regina to finish her one-on-one community service. By the end of it she had an exhaustive knowledge of all her former constituents and their habits. And they, in turn, had a greater appreciation for her that in many cases bordered on respect and approval.

So when Archie Hopper shifted anxiously from foot to foot at her front door one morning and asked her to be his council treasurer, not a peep of dissent was heard. The pragmatic residents of Storybrooke took the view that, say what you will about Regina Mills, but their one-time Evil Queen was badass with budgets. And they did very much like their trash collected on time and potholes fixed regularly.

* * *

Regina's eyes flicked up again to the TV. Emma had at some point gotten bored with her women's basketball and changed channels.  _Yet again_. CNN came up with some election coverage. Boston's mayoral race. She paused and set down her papers as a familiar face appeared. And then another. She blinked in surprise.

_Well, well._

"Shit, hey Regina, do you see who I see?" Emma asked, squeezing the foot in her lap sharply, eyes wide.

"Indeed," she replied, with a slow smile. "Turn up the volume."

Emma hit a button on the remote and a commentator's voice filled the room.

_"So just repeating, with 68% of votes counted it seems clear that former Boston Police Commissioner Sheldon Jackson will be the new mayor of Boston. His election brings with it a couple of firsts, doesn't it Sally?"_

_"It sure does, Stuart. He's the first ever African American mayor in Boston, and if you look at the footage you'll see the crowds cheering him on in the bottom of the screen. His daughter, Nene Jackson, who we saw earlier, a former Skowhegan police officer, also becomes the first openly gay member of a Boston First Family."_

Emma, with a handful of cheesy Doritos halfway to her mouth let go in shock, spraying half-chewed corn chips as she blurted: "The fuck?!"

Regina snorted. Footage of Nene Jackson and a woman entering the party headquarters earlier, hand in hand, was replayed and the former mayor remembered only too well the closeted enraged police officer who'd threatened her at Bill's Eats and Fuel because Emma had stolen her one-time girlfriend.

"Well the good officer looks like she's made a few lifestyle adjustments since our run in," Regina said in surprise.

_"… seen here with her partner of two years, Misha Holmes. Apparently they met at college where they were both studying photography after Nene left the force saying she wanted a career change from policing."_

_"That's right Sally. There was a bit of tension early on in the campaign, if you recall, with the evangelical backers of Police Chief Jackson unhappy over his daughter's coming out. But that certainly died down in Week Two, and we all know why."_

There was laughter and much head shaking between the political anchors.

Emma was staring open-mouthed at the screen and Regina wasn't faring much better, gaping.

_"And I think we're about to see the cause of Jackson's remarkable turnaround. You know, he was an almost unwinnable ten points down in the polls until he got his new campaign manager. A woman who came out of nowhere and completely rewrote the Boston political scene."_

A tall elegant woman swept into the room, a Bluetooth earpiece in one ear and a phalanx of highly strung advisors surrounding her. She was leaning on a cane but her charisma and command presence were undeniable.

She owned the room.

Emma and Regina gave stereo gasps.

"Loreena?" Emma said. "What the hell?"

"Loreena," Regina smiled, pleased. "Why am I not shocked?"

_"…rewrote the political scene? Please Sally, she steamrolled it. Poor Aiden Quincy resigned in, what, four days of her arrival…"_

_"Three, Stuart, and I don't think anyone buys he'd never seen that campaign donation before in his life. Didn't he look guilty! And so shocked to be caught."_

_"The next rival folded eight days later – Jonathon Hallibart – and he was a veteran candidate. Most favored to win. Four campaigns he'd been in before, including one in Chicago, and he said he'd never faced a more gruelling election in his life. He even offered the Greene Machine a job. Remember that?"_

_"How could we forget her response! The trailer of dead fish and that now famous note."_

_"Ouch, right! What a way with words. Don't cross, Loreena!"_

_"Next came Susan Murphy – she was a red hot contender. Had the women's vote all stitched up, isn't the so, Sally?"_

_"Oh my, I thought Murphy could have done it but it took less than a month and Jackson's campaign manager had us thinking the former police chief had more ovaries than Murphy. Remember that stunning speech Loreena wrote for him – about looking down and seeing our daughters at our feet,_ really _seeing them? Still brings a tear to the eye. The question is, where did Loreena Greene come from? No one seems to know."_

_"Well, Stuart, I've heard everything from a small town in Maine to Switzerland. But she's not Swiss is she? Maybe we should interview her mom who seems to have turned up tonight."_

The camera panned to an elderly woman in the background who looked proud as could be. Loreena had placed a steadying arm on her.

"Who is that?" Regina asked. "Loreena doesn't have a mother."

"Uhmm," Emma said, squinting. "She's the old lady who gave me that goodbye letter for you. That's Loreena's friend. Josephine I think her name is?"

_"…Well Washington will definitely have the Greene Machine on speed dial now. She won't be short of offers. Ah. If we look to the floor I can see the mayor elect is ready to make his victory speech. He is just gathering his family on stage now."_

They watched as Nene and her partner were welcomed on stage by the new mayor, and Loreena faded into the background off to the side. But even then, faded wasn't the word. The cameras flashed all around the family, and just as many shots were taken of the statuesque campaign manager looking pleased as Josephine squeezed her arm and watched on warmly.

"She said she had greatness in her," Regina murmured. "And look at her."

"I think the American people should be afraid," Emma said with a grin. "Watch out Washington when she gets there."

"Probably." Regina agreed, but her eyes shone proudly.

Emma's phone beeped and she fished it out of her pocket. "Mandy," she muttered. "She's getting her groove on at some karaoke bar tonight with some friends from all the offices around work."

"Ah the illustrious Miss Somerville," Regina said as she plucked the remote from Emma's hand and hit mute, focusing on her lover. "Do you ever miss it – your bounty-hunting business?"

Emma shrugged. "Sometimes, a little. But what I have here, with you and Henry, is pretty hard to beat." She sent a text back to her former secretary and looked up again.

"But I have no regrets selling my business to my old boss though. He's so stoked at having a second chance at making a go of things. And that seems to be the moral of all our stories, right? Second chances?"

"So it would seem."

Regina gave her a soft smile and beckoned her closer. Emma dropped the remote and arranged herself along Regina's side, and curled an arm around the brunette's waist. Regina brought her arms around her and then stroked her hair thoughtfully.

Emma's phone beeped again and she plucked it out of her pocket to look at the screen. Then she started laughing. "Oh no. Oh my fucking god, no."

"Emma?"

"Mandy says Shania – that lawyer I dated once – just took to the mike and belted out Dolly Parton's Jolene."

"So?" Regina asked, eyebrows lifting. "Is this somehow significant to our lives?"

Emma shut her phone down and tossed it carelessly on the coffee table with a grin. She cuddled the other woman once more and answered with a smirk: "Because, you musical philistine, Jolene is a country song. So that means Shania is, as of right now, officially a 'country-singing lawyer'."

Regina gave a suppressed bark of laughter. "Ah! I knew it."

"Yeah, yeah. Shuddup." Emma shifted forward and kissed Regina sweetly and dropped her head to her chest. "You're a goddamned genius."

"And don't you forget it," Regina purred, kissing her back.

"Like I ever would," came the affectionate reply. "I love you, you sexy genius."

Regina closed her eyes in bliss, a smile transforming her face.

_Now this was the life._

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! I know The Staircase has been a hard gruelling read at times but thank you for sticking with it. I appreciate the support I've had over the past year, especially from Bond. Jane and SgtMac, who both stopped me from quitting when the hatemail got so bad. So many readers and friends touched me along the way with their kind words, like 3-piece-suit and exquisiteliltart, the latter of whom helped me understand curious Americanisms like junkfood names.
> 
> This was my last story for the OUAT fandom. I appreciate people trying to lure me back, but nope, I just can't with that show now. Thanks once more for reading. I know it's not for everyone. And I appreciate you all for giving me a chance.
> 
> Just an update to add: I now write lesfic books under the name Lee Winter. You can check me out at Amazon or Ylva Publishing. You may even recognise one OUAT-inspired character in my first book, The Red Files. I'll let you guess which one it is. :)


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